Hated
by Tonight's The Night
Summary: Takes place shortly after the Tokyo Arc. Everyone blames Syaoran for the recent chaos, which complicates their travels and destroys their relationships. Can the real Syaoran win them back, or will they hate him forever? Rated M for violence. Complete.
1. Ostracized

Chapter One

They hated him.

As Syaoran wound the bandages around his calf, he contemplated that. After two weeks in Infinity, he'd gotten used to treating the little nicks and scrapes left from the chess matches, unwilling to trouble the others after everything that had happened in Tokyo. The constant reminders of their disdain gnawed at him: the way they averted their eyes whenever he was forced into their presence, or how the room would go silent if he lingered too long.

A jolt of pain shot through his leg as he pulled the bandage tight. His teeth buried themselves in his lip, almost drawing blood. He tied off the ends as quick as his fingers could move, then picked up the bottle of antiseptic and went to work tending to his other leg. Since his primary fighting style revolved around kicks, his legs took the brunt of the injuries.

Once that leg was patched up, he picked the first-aid kit up from the end table and opened the door. Kurogane glanced up from the couch at the sound of the door swinging open, then returned his attention to the book in his hand. Fai tensed at the sink, the dishtowel in his hand freezing for a moment on the plate he was washing. Syaoran moved quickly through the room, not wanting to disrupt their activities any more than he already had.

Naturally, that was when Sakura swept out of the bathroom, her dark dress trailing behind her like a pair of broken butterfly wings. As she caught sight of him, her head whipped around and her eyes froze on his figure. Syaoran felt his body go still under her gaze, something deep inside him silencing the instinct to flee. For a long moment, she stared at him, the ceiling lights glinting off her eyes and making them look like rounded emeralds. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to speak to him at last.

Her head turned away, and she walked past him.

Something shifted in his chest, as if he'd been held underwater too long and finally lost his ability to hold his breath. He hurried into the bathroom, remembering the first-aid supplies in his hands. Once inside, he deposited the healing supplies in the medicine cabinet, making sure everything was in order.

As he closed the medicine cabinet, the mirror reflected his face back at him. He saw the white square of the bandage across his cheek, and the tiny, untreated cut a few inches below. He examined his matching eyes, wondering how, after his clone had betrayed everyone, _he _had become the bad guy. _Do they resent me because I wear the same face? _he wondered, resting a finger on the shadowed bags under his eyes. _Or because they think I'm trying to replace the one they knew? _

He looked away after a moment, then opened the door and shut the light off. Fai and Kurogane reacted to his entrance as they had before, but said nothing as he passed.

The door to his room had a lock. He turned it until it clicked, then walked over to the single bed pushed up against the wall. He laid down, hearing the squeal of the springs in the mattress as he moved, and closed his eyes.

He dreamed of the Other.

It was raining, in that world. From the sheer abundance of greenery and striking emerald color to the trees, Syaoran guessed in rained often in this world. The Other—his clone, the monster who had ruined everything in one fell swoop—hacked through a cluster of hanging vines, burning them in the process.

_He still has my sword, _Syaoran thought, a coil of anger forming somewhere deep inside him. Of course, it wasn't _his _sword. By all rights, it still belonged to his clone.

Perhaps it wasn't the sword itself that bothered him. Perhaps it was the knowledge that his clone had stolen away years of his life, cultivating and destroying these friendships, and left nothing for him to salvage.

The Other hacked through an inconvenient branch and continued weaving through the jungle. His black clothes still hung in tatters from the fight in Tokyo. Wherever he was, he hadn't been able to find anyone to lend him new clothes.

As Syaoran watched, the Other paused and glanced back. His mismatched eyes were devoid of all emotion except the frigid demeanor he had displayed in the reservoir, and when they looked directly at where he would've been standing if he'd had a physical form, a chill ran down Syaoran's spine.

The Other stared a moment more, the barest hint of a challenge glinting in his unnatural eyes, then turned away.

* * *

><p>The blood dripped down his wrist in a thin line. "Get to it," Kurogane grumbled, holding his arm out. From the corner of his eye, he saw Fai's remaining eye turn gold.<p>

The vampire sighed faintly and craned his neck so his lips touched the sticky fluid. Kurogane returned his attention to the book he'd picked up, glad he'd found something he was able to read in this world. It distracted him from the more pressing issues.

Minutes passed, and Fai lifted his head. "Something troubling you, Kuro-pon?"

The ninja withdrew his arm. "Quit calling me that."

Fai stood up, frowning. The expression that had once looked so unnatural on his face had become familiar enough since he'd become a vampire. Kurogane supposed there was no point in faking smiles when neither of the kids ever left their rooms anymore. After a moment, Fai spoke. "Is it Sakura-chan, or . . ."

"They both went through a lot of shit in the last world we went to; I can't imagine they'd be acting _normal _under the circumstances, but even so . . ."

"Sakura-chan may just be staying in her room for convenience. It's probably not easy for her to walk on that leg."

Kurogane nodded, though he thought it would've been more convenient for her to stay in the living room, if it bothered her. The wound she'd given herself in Tokyo had crippled her, at least until they reached a world with more advanced medical care. _And even then, some things can't be fixed. _"The boy's avoiding us."

Fai had no comment on that.

"If it were just avoidance, he would probably go somewhere outside, looking for the princess's feathers, or doing some training. It would be easier for him to evade us if he was somewhere else, but instead, he's been staying in his room as often as possible. Now, even taking into account that this kid isn't the same as the one we knew, that doesn't make any sense unless he's afraid of leaving."

Fai nodded. "You think he's afraid we'll leave him behind?"

"I think he's afraid of his clone coming back."

Silence stretched out across the living room, extending eerily to the rest of the apartment. The cramped little box they lived in was smaller than any place Kurogane had ever stayed in, even smaller than the place they'd stayed in the country with the kudan. The other rooms were just as silent.

"Well, that's only natural, I suppose," Fai said, faking a smile. The ninja frowned, annoyed by the transparent attempt at good cheer.

"We've got another fight tomorrow," he said, standing up. "It's time for bed."

* * *

><p>The thorns rose out of the ground on spindly vines.<p>

"Looks like we could get cut if we're not careful," Fai remarked, expression shifting into an easy smile. Syaoran watched more vines sprout from the ground, only partially paying attention to the announcer calling out their names.

His body was not as strong as the Other's body. While his clone had trained for months, developing his muscles, he'd been sealed in a tube. It had preserved what physical abilities he'd been capable of before, but without having received any actual training since the day he'd been sealed away, he was worried about not having the muscle memory to fight.

The others showed no sign of worry, though, so as long as he kept his head, he'd probably still be alive after this. Bruised and cut up, but alive.

The announcer gave the call to begin, and the three of them lurched forward, the chains wrapped around each of them jingling as they moved. The other team charged for them, eager to win the prize money. On the right was a blond man with half a dozen daggers secured to his belt. Two more occupied his hands, shining silver spikes capable of killing with one well-placed hit. When he lifted his hands to throw them, Syaoran ducked.

The man in the middle, bearing a sword, ran up to face Kurogane. From the way he carried himself, Syaoran could tell this one was not nearly as skilled as the ninja. That part of the fight would be over soon enough.

The blond drew another dagger from his belt and darted forward, light on his feet. Instead of throwing this one, he tried to bury it in Syaoran's heart. He narrowly avoided the blade, his reaction time slower than the Other's. He lifted a foot to kick, being careful to angle it correctly to maximize the impact.

The blond caught hold of his ankle and twisted, as if snapping a chicken's neck. Pain jolted through his leg, sharp and stunning, and in the next second, he was facedown on the ground.

Fights could turn lethal in a second, even in supervised tournaments like this. He managed to roll out of the path of a flying dagger, but the next caught the fabric of his shirt an pinned him down. He struggled to rip free, but by the time the blade tore through the cloth, another dagger had stuck itself deep in his shoulder.


	2. Wounded

Chapter Two

Blood splattered across the arena floor, and Syaoran twisted out of the way, hand flying up to the dagger in his shoulder. He ripped it out, letting it clatter to the floor. As he watched, the thorn-covered vines that had sprouted at the beginning of the fight coiled around the bloody blade and pulled it toward his opponent.

The others were still occupied with the fight. Kurogane busied himself fending off the attacks of their sword-wielding opponent, only glancing in his direction for a moment before getting his sleeve slashed open. Fai was busy dancing out of the way of a dark-haired girl's punches. Sakura had taken notice, when he'd ripped the dagger out of his shoulder, and half-risen from her chair before she realized she was not allowed to move from that spot until the fight was over. He watched her eyes glaze over and return to the others, observing the fight like a real chess match.

Syaoran rolled to his feet, grimacing. The dagger had stabbed deep, but except for the spurt of blood when he'd pulled it out, he wasn't bleeding much. _It didn't hit an artery, at least, _he thought, facing his knife-wielding opponent. Something like shock crossed the man's face as he stood.

The moment of panic only afforded him a second to recover. As the moment passed, his opponent ripped another blade from his belt and threw it. Syaoran managed to sidestep this one, swaying drunkenly as the thorny vines coiled around his leg, holding him in place. The chains connecting him to Sakura and the others jingled as he rocked, weighing him down even as he tried to rip free of the sharp plants.

His opponent was down to a single dagger now; he clutched it tight in his hands and rushed forward.

Syaoran waited, trying to judge the distance between them by the surrounding objects while freeing one leg. Depth perception was not his strong suit.

_It's not Fai's strong suit, either, _he thought guiltily. If he'd just arrived there a few minutes sooner, the Other would've been occupied fighting him instead of trying to get Fai's magic power.

_And then maybe he would look at me when I enter the room, _he thought. A shift in his opponent's gait cued him to counterattack. He brought his leg around in a wide arc, finally ripping free of the thorns. The side of his foot smashed into the man's wrist, knocking the dagger out of his hand. Before he could stoop down and pick up one of the blades littering the floor, Syaoran threw a second kick to his abdomen. The man doubled over, eyes going wide.

He heard the sound of a body hitting the floor behind him, and glanced back to see Kurogane standing over his unconscious opponent. A few feet away, Fai was in the process of tearing his enemy to shreds with his claws. None of the lacerations seemed to be _fatal, _but then, the magician seldom attacked at all. Syaoran shuddered to think what those claws could do if Fai _was _trying to kill someone.

The man in front of him was still doubled over, clutching his abdomen. Syaoran knocked him out with a kick to the temple, and it was over.

The announcer yelled about their victory, getting the audience to cheer and some of the bettors to throw fits. A hand came down on his uninjured shoulder. "You're going to the hospital to get treated," Kurogane told him, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Like he was talking to the Other.

"Yeah . . ." Syaoran muttered, eyes flashing up to Sakura as she rose from her chair. If his clone had been hurt instead of him, she would've rushed over here, asking if he was hurt, and how badly, and urging him to get treatment right away.

He wasn't the Other, and Sakura didn't do any of that.

Since fighting tended to cause serious injuries, there was a hospital within the stadium walls. He hurried down the corridor, leaning against the paneled walls for support. As the adrenaline faded from his system, the pain in his shoulder grew.

There was a heavy sigh behind him. "C'mon kid. I'll carry you there."

He shook his head. "I can make it."

The ninja sighed again. "It's a pain watching you do this kind of stuff. Stand still."

Syaoran took another step forward, pressing his hand against the wall so he at least _looked _like he could walk straight. "Really, I'm fine. We're almost there, anyway."

Kurogane frowned, crossing his arms in front of him. "Look, I know you think avoiding everyone is going to make them stop blaming you, but you're only making things worse."

His eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, just do as I say."

They reached the doors of the hospital. Syaoran turned to the red-eyed man. "They hate me, don't they?"

A startled look flitted across the ninja's face.

"They hate me for what happened in Tokyo. Fai-san hates me for his current state, and the princess hates me because I'm not . . ." His hands coiled into fists. "I'm not the one she cared about. I'm not the one she knew."

"Kid . . ."

"I don't blame them for it. They have good reason to hate me." Just saying the words put a lump in his throat. He pushed open the hospital doors.

Kurogane gave no response.

* * *

><p>"You should be able to pick him up tomorrow morning at the latest," the receptionist said, handing him a sheet of paper with neat kanji written across the lines. "The doctors said he'll make a full recovery, but recommend at least a week of bed rest before he fights again."<p>

_Well, there goes this week's schedule, _Kurogane thought, returning to the others. "She said it's going to be a week before he can fight again."

Fai gave no indication he'd heard, staring at a spot of blood on his shoe. Sakura looked up and spoke. "I suppose we'll have to come back tomorrow to get him."

The coldness in her voice startled him. Yes, she was hurting after all the shit that had gone down in Tokyo, and no, he didn't expect her to warm to the new Syaoran so soon after losing the old one, but even so, he didn't like or expect the trace of bitterness in her voice.

Was the princess capable of hatred? A few weeks ago, the answer would've been no. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Syaoran—the real one—seemed sure the princess hated him for trying to take the place of the other one—the clone. _Damn, I need to think of better names for the two of them, _Kurogane thought, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes as the other two rose from their seats in the waiting room.

"We'd best go home and check on your wounds, Kuro-pii," Fai said. "You've been ignoring those cuts on your arms."

"Shut up. I always let my opponent cut me. It gives them the confidence to lower their guard." Okay, that was utter crap. He'd only gotten cut because he'd been distracted by the sound of the kid hitting the ground. It didn't matter, though. The brat was lucky that dagger hadn't severed an artery. Compared to the potential for damage there, the cut on his wrist was almost nothing.

It was a short walk to their tiny, sixth-floor apartment. Fai unlocked the door and held it open for them, pasting that false grin on his face. "Let's get those cuts looked at, shall we?"

The ninja grunted in agreement, taking a spot on the couch while the magician retrieved the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet. Tending to wounds had sort of become the mage's role here, even with his newfound sensitivity to blood. The blond man was skilled at making poultices and pain-relieving potions. Kurogane suspected these remedies were just as much magic as basic first-aid skill, given how well his methods seemed to work. He wondered if the kid preferred to treat his own wounds because he felt excluded, or because he didn't feel his injuries were enough to warrant medical attention.

_He's definitely not the other kid, _he thought as he smeared antiseptic across the cuts on his wrist. The old Syaoran would've taken the help because he knew that was what the princess would've wanted. Even if Sakura was acting distant, the old Syaoran would've taken care of it.

The princess finished getting treated first, her only health problem being the nagging pain in her leg after getting impaled in Tokyo, and disappeared into her bedroom. Kurogane supposed her absence made the next part a little easier. He turned to the magician.

"The kid thinks you hate him."

"Does he?" Fai unrolled a long ribbon of gauze, seeming preoccupied with the white fabric, but Kurogane noticed the slight tightening of his eyes.

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"I don't think it'll trouble him for very long."

"What happened at Tokyo wasn't his fault."

Another defensive twitch of the magician's face. "But in the end, he still blames himself, doesn't he?"

"Is that the straightest answer you're going to give me?"

"To be fair, what you said was more of a statement than a question."

His voice sharpened. "Does it bother you or not?"

Fai shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Kurogane stood up. "I'm going to bed."

The magician smiled, the same way he always did. "Goodnight, Kuro-pon."

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him.


	3. Unloved

Chapter Three

Even through the haze of painkillers, his nightmares continued to plague him.

He didn't always dream of the Other. Sometimes, his nightmares revolved around getting captured by Fei Wang Reed, and being imprisoned in that tube again. Other times, the nightmares involved one or all of their little band getting killed by various threats.

Once, he'd dreamed that Fai had come to murder him for all the damage he'd caused. He'd woken from that dream paralyzed with fear and unwilling to leave his room until the pain of his hunger drove him to the kitchen.

Tonight, he dreamed of Sakura.

She wore the pink and white gown she'd owned in Clow. When he first saw her, standing in front of the wing-shaped ruins, she was facing away from him, hood drawn up over her head. Uninhibited by the stresses of reality, he called out to her. "Don't stand so close to that. Those ruins aren't safe, Sakura."

She didn't turn. Her dress flapped in the wind, like a broken umbrella. He approached, knowing with the surreal certainty of dreams that if she moved any closer to the ruins, something awful would happen. As his footsteps echoed off the solid floor surrounding the ruins, her fingers curled up, nails pressing tight against the pale skin of her palms. Ignoring his warning, she took a step forward, toward the towering remnants of some lost civilization. He ran up to her, reaching out for her with his right hand.

When his fingers grazed the skin of her hand, they came away slick with blood. His eyes flashed down to the crimson fluid smeared across his fingertips. "Sakura!"

This time, she did turn. Her gown swung wide, obscuring her body even as she twisted toward him. When he finally caught sight of her, he recoiled. Blood ran down the left side of her face, sticking to her sunset-colored hair and holding it together in clumps. A crimson splotch stained the front of her shirt, barely concealed by the shifting folds of her gown. At the center of the red, a narrow slit in her dress revealed the deep gouge in her chest. He looked up to her face, face flushing red even under the dire circumstances.

One of her eyes had turned blue.

"Why did you do this to me, Syaoran?" she asked, her voice monotone, dead. "Why did you rip out my heart?"

"I never . . . Sakura, your eyes . . ."

"You took him away from me," she said, the barest hint of anger accenting her words. "You took him away, and now you want to take his place."

"Sakura, please . . ."

She blinked, eyes returning to their natural jade color. Syaoran would've thought the change would've been a relief, but the bleak emptiness he saw there chilled him more than the mismatched colors he'd seen a moment ago.

Very quietly, she said, "Never. I will never love you."

The world went black as the words echoed in his mind. _Never._

_Never. _

The dull ache in his shoulder roused him from his unpleasant slumber. Confusion swept across his mind as he struggled to remember what had happened last night. It took him almost a minute to come to the obvious conclusion.

_Stupid. What else could it have been from? _he wondered, remembering how he'd ripped the dagger out of his shoulder. He laid still a moment longer before opening his eyes to the glaring lights above. The off-white ceiling tiles didn't belong in his bedroom, that much was certain. From the beeping machines, he deduced that this was a hospital room.

_How long have I been here? _he wondered, turning his head in search for a clock of some sort. The slow movement tugged at his wounds, pulling against the healing flesh and making him wince.

Looking at the clock did him little good. It said it was half past six, but there was no way to tell if that meant morning or evening. He tried to calculate what time it should be based on how long the surgery on his shoulder should've taken, but he didn't know what kind of medical care existed in this country, or how intensive the work on his injury had been compared to what they normally treated, so that didn't help.

He closed his eyes again, not to sleep, but to get away from the piercing glare of the ceiling lights. Ever since the nightmares had started, sleep had become more a chore than a reprieve. Being shunned should've made sleeping an escape, but compounded with the nightmares, and one bizarrely realistic dream of seeing his clone, finding the will to go to bed every night challenged him.

His daytime thoughts weren't much better, but at least he had some measure of control over them. Instead of dwelling on the negative, he thought about Sakura, before the events at Tokyo. Her smile, the way she fretted over every little injury . . . He remembered the time when she'd created a crown made of clovers and plopped it down on his head, smiling widely as only a child could.

_Not your head, _the logical part of his mind intruded. He fidgeted under the sheets. _Not even your body. Not your memories. She gave that crown to the Other._

He pushed the thoughts away, trying to recall something else pleasant about her, even if it didn't involve him, exactly.

"_I'm really glad you came to my birthday party, Syaoran-kun." she said, staring at her dessert spoon. A soft smile lit up her face, not quite the exuberant grin she usually favored him with, but still piercingly sweet. There was a definite fondness there, a sort of joy with roots buried much deeper than those of normal affection._

_He smiled back, the expression still feeling strange to the muscles of his face. The princess had named this his birthday, too, since he hadn't had one when he'd arrived. He wondered if this sort of thing was what people always did at birthday parties. Just talking at the table and eating sweets with the promise of gifts following. Except for the last part, that seemed much the same as any other day at the castle. _

_Perhaps the spontaneous joy came from knowing one had reached a quantifiable milestone in their lives, a number to express how much one had matured since the previous year. Perhaps it was the storm of attention one received on this special day, making it a separate occurrence from the other three-hundred-some days of the year. Whatever it was, Syaoran was surprised to find how nice it felt to be part of this, to share the birthday with Princess Sakura._

Another thought intruded on his musings. _"Never. I will never love you." _

He winced, opening his eyes again. _It was just a dream, _he reminded himself. _There's no reason to get so upset by it. _

But as the thought took hold in his mind, he began to wonder. Yes, it was just a dream, but dreams were nothing more than subconscious manifestations of the inner self, projected onto a quickly forgotten screen within the mind. Some part of him knew she resented him for taking the Other away from her. Sakura was too kind a person to ever assert such a thing directly, but he remembered the way she'd turned away from him, and the subdued manner she acquired whenever she realized he was nearby.

"_Never. I will never love you." _

Through the Other's eyes, he'd watched Sakura grow older, watched her smile and laugh and, in rare moments, cry. He'd felt the Other grow fond of her, almost developing a heart as they spent time together. After a time, when his clone had grown used to smiling and learned to act almost normal, Syaoran had felt the Other start to love Sakura.

_He did. Not me. So it shouldn't bother me, if she hates me, _he reasoned. For the first couple weeks, that reasoning alone had been enough to keep whatever false stirrings of emotion he felt for her in check. He hadn't loved her, the Other had. It was not his place to feel that affection.

Except that he did. _Why else retreat to memories of her? _he wondered bitterly. Of course, there was a perfectly good reason for that: he didn't have many happy memories to dwell on during his stint as Fei Wang Reed's prisoner. It was natural for him to turn to the Other's memories, even if they didn't belong to him.

"_Never. I will never love you." _

"Damn it," he muttered. The thought was just a fragment of a dream, and yet it was inescapable. _Why can't I forget this dream like all the rest? _

The metal handle of the door moved, startling him out of his reverie. He looked up. A nurse wearing a pale blue gown stepped through the door, looking too young to be a graduate of medical school. Another figure followed her, clad in a black jacket and dark jeans. "Kurogane-san," he greeted the ninja as the nurse examined the monitor next to his bed.

"Morning. Feeling okay?"

The concern surprised him a little. Kurogane seemed to be the only member of the group, other than Mokona, who didn't blame him for the Tokyo disaster, so it shouldn't have surprised him to hear the concern in his voice. The question wasn't quite as warm as it might've been if it had been directed at the Other, but it was still more cordial than he had any right to expect. "I'm fine."

"Your vitals look normal," the nurse murmured, pulling back from the monitor and scribbling something on a clipboard. "If you want to go, I can remove the IV."

He glanced at Kurogane, looking for some sort of approval one way or the other. The ninja just shrugged. "I'd like to go," Syaoran said.

The nurse removed the IV, applying just a bit of pressure to the needle before pulling it out smoothly. She discarded it in a box labeled "biohazard", and unwrapped a small bandage to put over the puncture. Once that was done, she removed the rest of the monitoring equipment, and said, "You're free to go. Just make sure you sign out at the front desk."

"Thank you." He sat up, being careful not to jostle his bandaged shoulder too much.

Kurogane waited at the door until he regained his bearings. Syaoran hurried over, mind still a bit hazy from whatever drugs they'd given him during the surgery.

They headed down a floor to the receptionist's desk, where Kurogane signed some paperwork. The woman behind the counter thanked him, and they left.

"You've got all the kid's memories, don't you?" Kurogane asked as they walked through the double doors.

"Up until I showed up in Tokyo. The rest are all mine." _Except for that dream a few nights ago, _he thought, almost feeling the mismatched eyes crawl across the back of his neck.

"You know everything about him, then? Even things he's thought, but hasn't actually experienced?"

"Yes."

"But you're not him."

He bit his lip, wishing he could answer differently. "No. The person you've been traveling with isn't the same as me."

The ninja nodded, seeming absorbed in his own conjectures. After a moment, Syaoran plucked up the nerve to speak again.

"Is there a reason for the sudden curiosity?"

The dark-haired man was silent for long enough that Syaoran thought he wasn't going to answer. When they reached the apartment complex, Kurogane stopped. "There is a reason. I'm trying to figure out how much his personality carried over to yours, if it was identical, or if you two even had separate consciences."

"Oh. And your conclusions?"

"Nothing to be concerned about at this point. You're still going to fight for the princess's feathers, right?"

"Of course."

"Then there's no reason for us to hurt you."

Something about the words bothered him. It was almost as if there was another part of the sentence being left unsaid, a veiled threat under the reassuring message.

_There's no reason for us to hurt you . . . So long as your existence doesn't jeopardize ours._

Kurogane opened the door for him, and they stepped inside.


	4. Invited

Chapter Four

Busy speculating the reasons for the ninja's sudden curiosity, Syaoran almost missed the cold glance Fai gave him when he walked in.

The magician stood over the stove, spatula in hand, watching a pair of pancakes sizzle in the pan. The smell of syrup saturated the tiny room, a single bottle of it sitting in the middle of the table. Three chairs had been shoved up against the table's surface, for the three plates laying on the three placemats next to three glasses of milk.

The meaning couldn't have been clearer if Fai had put up a neon sign declaring the intended occupants of the chairs.

"Morning, Kuro-pii," the magician said, forcing his lips up into a smile. His smile seemed brittle now, barely hiding the resentment under the cheerful expression. "I was just making breakfast, since Sakura-chan and Mokona will be up soon. Were you still close enough to understand everything the doctors said?"

Syaoran did not miss the fact that the magician had mentioned each member of their group except for him.

"Yeah," Kurogane said, the word sharper than necessary for the question he'd been asked. Syaoran watched the exchange with interest, wondering what had changed since last night, besides his trip to the hospital. Was Fai still brooding over Kurogane's decision to save him, or had he missed some other important detail after spending so much time alone in his room?

Fai reacted to the ninja's terse response, fingers tightening around the spatula until his knuckles turned white. "Well, that's good. I'm going to go wake Sakura-chan. If the pancakes start burning, flip them over."

Syaoran waited for the ninja to say something like "Why do I have to do it?" or "Take care of your own damn pancakes."

He didn't.

Syaoran walked over to the cupboard and picked out a plate for himself, guessing from the number of placemats that he wasn't welcome at the table. As he retrieved one of the pancakes from the stack, he heard a chair slide across the linoleum. He glanced over to see Kurogane dragging one of the chairs from the living room to the table, moving two other seats out of the way to make room.

"You don't have to do that," Syaoran whispered, eyes flickering over to Sakura's half-open door. He could see the vampire nudging her shoulder, trying to wake her up.

"You're eating breakfast with us."

"It doesn't bother me to eat alone."

"You're eating breakfast with us," Kurogane repeated.

He hesitated a moment longer, feeling his shoulders slump and his body shrink in on itself. Butterflies battered the inside of his stomach, chasing away his appetite.

The ninja didn't look like he was in the mood for disobedience; Syaoran took a seat in the chair, scooting away from the table as soon as the red eyes left him, so he wouldn't appear such a threat to Fai when he returned.

Kurogane had just sat down with his plate when Fai walked out of Sakura's room. The vampire paused in the doorway for half a second, losing his smile. Syaoran's muscles tensed, tugging at his wounded shoulder and making him wince.

"The pancakes haven't burned," Kurogane said, as if he cared about the state of their breakfast. His offhand statement forced Fai to respond.

"That's good."

Behind Fai, Sakura stood, looking at him for the first time in two days. If he hadn't known her so well, he wouldn't have noticed the tension in her back, or the way her nose twitched when she saw him.

He stared back, waiting to see what she'd do next. Tension hovered between them like two taut strings stretched across the dining room.

Very deliberately, she turned her head toward the pile of pancakes by the stove. He glanced down at his plate, hand fumbling for the syrup bottle. As his fingers tightened around the thin bottle, a jolt of pain shot up to his shoulder, almost making him lose his grip. Kurogane acknowledged the spasm with a quick glance.

_Yep, he's pretty much the only one who doesn't hate my guts. Wonderful. _He set the syrup down and took the first bite of his pancakes. They would've tasted better if his anxiety hadn't chased away his appetite, but they were edible. Sakura sat in the chair furthest from him, leaving Fai to sit on his right side.

No one spoke. No one looked at anyone else.

He ate his breakfast as fast as he could, the awkwardness boring a hole into his forehead to match the one in his shoulder. As he finished, he scooted the chair back and picked up his plate. "Thank you," he murmured, not sure if he was thanking Fai for the food, or Kurogane for not wanting him dead.

No one answered his thanks, leaving it open-ended. His chair squealed loudly across the floor as he pushed it toward the table.

He washed his plate and returned to his room, relieved as soon as the door shut behind him. He hadn't really thought of the closet-sized room as a sanctuary, but he hadn't really spent enough time outside it until now to fully experience the rest of the world. He turned the little handle above the knob to lock the door, then sat down on the edge of his bed, sighing in relief.

After a few minutes, conversation restarted at the dining table. He pressed his ear against the wall, wondering if they were going to mention the tension.

"These pancakes are wonderful, Fai-san," Sakura said, a little subdued for the comment.

"I'm glad you like them, Sakura-chan. And what about you, Kuro-rin?"

There was no answer to this, at least not that he could hear. Without the visual cues, he had no inkling of what the silence meant. Was it some sort of protest? Had Kurogane just shrugged?

_No way to know, _Syaoran decided, closing his eyes. Fai changed topics, talking to Mokona about how conveniently the marketplace had set up their food aisles. The long-eared creature responded with enthusiasm, as always.

The conversation went on until Sakura left the table and returned to her room. Syaoran heard the hinges groan as the door opened, feeling a pang of guilt as he realized just how much the princess had withdrawn from the others because of his existence.

Not wanting to intrude on what little privacy a closed door offered her, he removed his ear from the wall and laid down, staring up at the ceiling. His shoulder throbbed from the wear-and-tear of lifting his plate and pushing his chair toward the table. He wondered how much recovery time he had before the next fight. They usually went out to the arena every three or four days, to get money for this apartment. He didn't want to delay them long, but at the same time, he knew he'd only be a hindrance if he had to fight over the next few days.

_Only be a hindrance for everything else, _he thought, frowning. _Only distract them every moment you're in their sight, and annoy them whenever they think about you. _He sighed quietly. If they just looked at him . . . If the princess would just meet his eyes for a moment without looking away or getting irritated . . .

If she would smile just once while he was watching . . .

"_Never. I will never love you."_

"I know that," he muttered to himself. The Other had seldom needed to talk to himself, since everyone else would talk to him, but since he didn't have that luxury, he often ended up muttering half-formed conversations to himself. "Of course I know that. I'm not _him._"

He wanted to be. Even though he was horrified by the Other's recent activity, and resented him for stealing away most of his life, a part of him wanted so badly to be the Other, to be accepted by the rest of his group. The duality of his feelings regarding his copy unnerved him, made him wish things were not so complicated.

"But they are," he whispered. "And it's all your fault, for being unable to work around Fei Wang Reed's plan."

He remembered the feeling of being trapped, sealed away to be used at Reed's leisure, remembered how he'd turned to looking through his clone's eyes after just a few days. Even looking through the emotionless, socially inept experiences of the Other's eyes, he'd been able to free his mind from the captivity that had become his daily life. He'd been able to see the world as if through a child's eyes, soaking in every experience as if for the first time, learning how to feel again.

Meeting Sakura. Becoming friends with her.

Wanting to stay at her side, even if it meant traveling through every dimension in the multiverse.

_He wasn't the same person I was. He developed only with the life he experienced after he showed up in Clow Country. But still, that life defined me just as much as my own, and I can't keep denying that. _"I can't pretend I'm nothing like him," he whispered. "But I can still be who I was."


	5. Tested

Chapter Five

No one disturbed him until dinnertime. Syaoran looked up from the book he'd picked up at the town library, turning it over so the spine was facing up, saving his page. He hurried over to the door to unlock it, then peered out through the narrow crack.

Kurogane stood outside, his expression unreadable. "It's time for dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"Don't give me that crap, it's been almost eight hours."

His fingers twitched. He wondered if he'd be able to avoid another nightmare like this morning. "Thank you for the concern, but I'm really not hungry."

"You're going to need the energy for sword practice tonight."

"What?" _Sword practice? _

"You heard me. You've got five minutes." The ninja closed the door without another word.

_Sword practice? _he thought again, shaking his head. While he had enough of the Other's memories to understand the basics of sword-fighting, his body didn't have the muscle memory and reaction time that resulted from the weeks of training his clone had gone through. He'd thought Kurogane had figured as much and decided it wasn't worth it to train him again.

Syaoran stood at the door for three of his allotted five minutes, turning it over in his head. If the ninja wanted him to resume practice, did that mean he trusted him not to misuse whatever skills he acquired? Or was the practice an excuse to get him out of the apartment for a while, so the others wouldn't have to suffer his presence? Surely, the ninja wouldn't want to stress the rest of his relationships by being cordial to him. Was this his way of compensating—keeping him away from the others so they would look the other way?

Moreover, did he even _want _to relearn everything the Other had learned? He _had _noticed his reaction time was slower than before, as evidenced by the scrapes and cuts, but was it worth it to go through all the extra training just to get that fraction of a second back? Even if it was, facing the dining table again had become, in his mind, the rough equivalent of going to war. Would Kurogane expect this of him in exchange for teaching him?

He didn't know. Even if the ninja didn't hate him like the others, he didn't have enough knowledge to guess the exact reason behind his offer. And he couldn't assume things would get any better, or that he wouldn't be expected to sit at the dining table with the others, even if he stayed locked in his room.

He opened the door and stepped out into the living room, enduring the cool glance Fai gave him and the ignorance Sakura favored him with. As he approached the table, he noticed there were four plates set out, instead of three. Had Kurogane done this himself, or had Fai accepted the fact he would be eating with them from now on?

He hated not knowing. That was one thing he and his clone had in common: they both had to know as much about what they were dealing with as possible.

They oriented themselves around the table much the same as they had this morning, the only difference being Mokona's position on Fai's lap instead of Sakura's. Silence descended on the group, and for a while, the only sound in the room was the noise of the forks scraping across the smooth surfaces of the plates. Syaoran sat with his shoulders hunched, scooting back whenever he was satisfied the tiny motion would go unnoticed. By the time dinner was done, he was almost two feet away from the table, his plate sitting on his lap rather than on the tablecloth. Quietly, he stood and marched over to the sink, rinsing the remainder of his dinner down the drain.

Kurogane still had a third of his food uneaten. Feeling out of place standing in the middle of the room, Syaoran moved toward the door, waiting for a glance of approval before he went out.

He waited in the hallway for a few minutes, studying the decorations on each of the doors to pass the time. After about five minutes, Kurogane stepped out into the hall, Souhi on his hip. "Back in Tokyo, you summoned a sword out of your own magic. Are you going to be able to do that reliably?"

"Yes."

"Good. That means we won't have to get you a new one."

Syaoran felt a twinge of guilt for letting his clone get away with Hien. "What kind of training will we be doing tonight?" he asked.

"Nothing too intense. We need a baseline of your physical abilities; that's about all we'll have time for. Besides, we don't want to hurt your shoulder any more than it already is." His red eyes slid over toward Syaoran, as if waiting for a denial of his pain.

He kept his mouth shut.

"There's a park between here and the hospital. It's got enough open space for what we need to do." They turned left at the next hallway, then went down the stairs leading to the main floor.

The park was smaller than the one they'd trained in during their stay in Outo. _No, I wasn't there, only watching, _he reminded himself, annoyed at how the memories all blurred together. His real memories were, for the most part, years back. The false ones, though lacking the realism of his true memories due to the secondary experience, were close enough that they stood out in his mind better. The result was . . . confusing.

"We're going to test your reflexes first, see if there's any difference between the sides of your body. Stand over there," Kurogane said, indicating a patch of grass approximately at the same distance from him as in Outo. As Syaoran moved to the correct spot, the ninja picked up a handful of stones from the rock garden behind him.

Syaoran spent the better part of the next hour wondering if Kurogane didn't hate him after all. _Why did my clone volunteer to have rocks thrown at him? _he wondered, narrowly dodging a small stone as it flew past his face. Another followed close behind, moving faster than the previous one. Before he could lift a leg to kick it away, it hit his bandaged shoulder. His knees buckled under him like overstressed building supports.

"Shit . . ." he heard the ninja hiss as he hit the ground. The ninja approached as he clutched his shoulder. "Kid, you okay?"

"Fine," Syaoran gasped, rolling onto his hands and knees.

"Your reaction time is slower than the other one's."

"Really?"

He laid down a moment longer, waiting for the adrenaline to seep through his bloodstream and numb the pain. Slowly, he sat up.

Kurogane extended one arm out to him. Syaoran stared for a moment, then grabbed the hand with his good arm and allowed Kurogane to hoist him up to his feet. He stood there a moment, thinking.

"What's bothering you?" Kurogane asked before he could say anything.

He hesitated.

"Spit it out, kid."

"Do you . . . Do you wish the other Syaoran was here instead of me?"

The ninja sighed. "What would you do if I answered yes? Off yourself? Pretend to be him?"

His eyes drifted down to his feet. "I would . . . do nothing, I guess."

"There's nothing you can do to bring the other kid back without him being a threat. There's no way you can act that will make you like him without being a transparent attempt to win us over. So quit worrying about it."

He closed his eyes. "Okay."

The ninja sighed. "We won't be able to test your arm strength until your shoulder is healed, and there's not much I can teach you about sensing things except to put a blindfold on you and tell you to find your way back to the apartment, which I'm not going to do until you're feeling better. All I can say for now is that we're going to have to start right back at square one."

_Wonderful, _he thought.

"Let's go home. It's time for bed, anyway."

He let Kurogane lead him back to the apartment.

_Quit worrying about it, _he'd said, almost in annoyance. And honestly, what else could he do? He had enough to worry about: whether he would survive the next fight, how long it would take to find the next feather, which world they would travel to next, and how dangerous it would be.

_Enough to worry about that I don't have time to focus on the Other, _he thought, wishing he had some way to put it out of his mind.


	6. Blinded

Chapter Six

Something about the new Syaoran just didn't sit right with Fai. The boy had been sitting at the dining table for six days now, obviously uncomfortable, permitted only on the silent insistence of his clone's mentor.

Maybe it was because the boy shared the same face as the one who'd ripped his eye out of his socket, but for whatever reason, this replacement's mere existence chafed at Fai like a poorly-made winter coat. But he'd felt such stirrings of disquiet before, often in the moments before a fight or sneak attack. His warrior's instinct was a fined-tuned security system, adept at spotting threats well before they manifested themselves. Becoming a vampire had only sharpened this sense.

_Six days, _he thought. _And not a word out of him. _

His remaining eye flickered up for a moment as Syaoran stood up. Sakura stiffened in her seat, fingers tensing around her fork. Kurogane didn't react.

Fai watched Syaoran walk over to the sink and rinse his plate, like he did every night. When the faucet stopped flowing, Fai heard him set the plate on the countertop and walk over to the door. There he paused, as he often did. The magician seldom looked at him, but from the ninja's reactions, he guessed the boy stood there looking for some sort of approval before he went out.

Across the table, Kurogane gave an infinitesimal nod. The door clicked as it opened, then brushed against the thick fibers of the carpet. In the past few weeks, Fai had noticed a definite improvement in his senses. His ears were much more sensitive than before, and his sight was sharper despite the lack of depth perception. Even his sense of smell and taste had noticeably improved.

It had been a pleasant surprise to find that he could still eat solid food. It didn't sate his appetite, as it had before, but the myriad of tastes available to his changed palate made him inclined to eat with the others, regardless of who showed up at the dinner table.

"We're running low on things to thaw out," he said, as the tension leftover from Syaoran's presence faded. "Does anyone want me to get them something from the market?"

Mokona popped out of Kurogane's shirt, much to the ninja's surprise. "Mokona wants Fai to bring back more pancake mix!"

"Got it. What about you, Sakura-chan?" he asked, knowing the girl sometimes liked to dabble in cooking when she was sure the new Syaoran was locked away in his bedroom.

"Whatever you think we need," she murmured, pushing a pile of rice around with her fork. She'd made the rice herself, insisting on doing something besides sequestering herself in her room. It worried him a little that she didn't have the appetite to finish off what was on her plate. Stress upset the digestive system, that much he knew, but if it was affecting her that much, any strength she had left would drain away.

Fai finished what remained on his plate and rinsed off his dishes, planning to wash them when he returned from his shopping trip. He walked out the door.

Syaoran looked up, his expression expectant. As soon as he saw Fai, his eyes dropped down as if he'd been hit over the head with a frying pan. All his muscles tensed, and he retreated a step, pressing his back against the wall.

Fai took only a moment to observe the boy's startled behavior, wondering if it was fear or guilt making him jumpy, then continued walking down the halls. Half his attention remained on the boy, even after he passed him. His ears listened back for any movement, his neck tensed as he prepared himself to look back at any sound. _Still not right, _he thought, uneasy.

"Fai-san?"

His head whipped around, much faster than he would've been capable of moving it a few weeks ago. Syaoran's face paled as he witness the unnatural movement. "Yes?" Fai said, waiting.

"I'm s-sorry."

He said nothing. The boy composed himself, the tremors no longer running up and down his body, but the color didn't return to his face even when he spoke again.

"I should've gone to Tokyo sooner. It's my fault that you're . . . that those things happened."

Fai stared at him a moment longer, feet glued to the ground. The boy dared to lift his two brown eyes up to look at him for some response. _Matching eyes, _some part of him thought. The rest of his thoughts hummed on a frequency too high for him to organize, overpowered by the shock.

He turned, too fast to look like a mortal movement. His legs carried him through the halls, his steps so soft and quick it almost felt like he was gliding through the air rather than running. At the first stairwell, he turned and half-ran, half-fell down the steps, feet flying too fast to control his movements. In less than thirty seconds, he'd reached the main level, breathing hard.

Several minutes passed as he stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands shaking. His breathing echoed in the confined space, rattling with the rest of his body. He slid down, leaning heavily against one wall, until he sagged down onto the bottom step, head in his hands.

_If he'd gone to Tokyo sooner? _He struggled to regain control of his breathing. He couldn't. _He shouldn't have come at all, _he thought bitterly. _He should've left as soon as his work in Tokyo was done, instead of lingering with the group, drawing his clone in._

_He should have left so Sakura wouldn't have to mourn the other one._

* * *

><p>Syaoran flinched when the door to their apartment swung open again, but this time, it was Kurogane who came out.<p>

"What got into you?" the ninja asked, arching an eyebrow at his sudden movement.

"Nothing."

Kurogane looked like he was about to press for an answer, then sighed. "How's your shoulder?"

"Much better. I just changed the bandages." He'd been wrapping them when the ninja had knocked on his door to announce dinner, and the clean wrappings made him feel better about the healing gouge in his shoulder.

"If it starts to hurt, tell me."

"I will."

They started down the hallway, moving at the steady, purposeful pace they always did when moving through the apartment complex. They made it down to the first floor without any difficulties. Syaoran had half-expected to run into Fai on their way out, but the magician had apparently slipped away before they'd reached the main level.

Kurogane led him down the same path they took every night to get to the park, seeming preoccupied. It wasn't until they passed the park that Syaoran started to wonder what the ninja was thinking about. He hesitated, unsure if interrupting his conjectures would be wise. He decided to stay quiet.

They walked almost two miles, beyond the range of Mokona's translation abilities. The coherent conversations humming around him dissolved into senseless babble, and his body tensed up. Kurogane kept walking, not even paying attention to the shift. Syaoran began to wish he'd had the guts to ask where they were going when his teacher would've been able to understand him.

They stopped in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Kurogane turned towards him, holding a folded up square of cloth in his hands. "Outo," he said, moving the black cloth so it rested over Syaoran's eyes.

_It's going to be a long night, _he thought, lifting his hands to tied off the blindfold. A gentle hand came down on his good shoulder, and Kurogane murmured something he didn't understand in the slightest. _Maybe "good luck"? _he thought hopefully.

The hand lifted, and he was alone.

Without the training his clone had gone through, he would've been totally helpless on the car-crowded streets and bustling sidewalk. As it was, he was barely perceptive enough to avoid walking into people. His shoulders bumped pedestrians and objects, and whenever he got hit on the injured side, his face wrinkled up in pain. Twice, he nearly walked into oncoming traffic, jerking back an instant before getting hit by a passing car. Several drivers honked at him, and he heard strings of words he could only imagine were curses. After a few close calls, he started edging toward the buildings lining every street, running his fingers along the bricks so as not to lose his way.

Every step he took was laced with caution, but that didn't stop him from tripping half a dozen times. Within half an hour, his nose was bleeding from the repeated falls, and his palms were abraded with scrapes from hitting the sidewalk. He tried to pick up on what the people around him were saying, hoping that some tiny portion of their language would be similar to one he'd learned in all his travels with his father.

_Not my father, _he reminded himself sternly. _Not my life. _

He found it hard not to draw parallels, though. The Other had learned to find his way in the country of Outo fairly easy. He'd been close enough to Mokona to understand the people around him and ask for directions, though, and Kurogane hadn't taken left him more than half a mile from where they'd been staying. Was this his roundabout way of exiling him from the group? That didn't seem likely after insisting on training him.

In his abstraction, he ran into a wall. He didn't think about it any more after that.

He walked for hours. Once in a great while, he would catch the edge of a conversation, and turn in that direction, convinced Mokona must be close by and he was headed in the right direction. Each time that happened, he lost track of where he was and wandered out of the creature's range. Finding it again was never easy, and he wondered if Mokona was on the move, perhaps traveling with Fai as the magician went through his shopping, or moving around with Kurogane, in a deliberate attempt to make finding his way back more difficult.

Regardless of the reason, he was having trouble homing in on the apartment complex. His legs grew sore and his feet sorer, and after a time, he decided to sit down on a bench as he passed by, just to rest for a moment. He hadn't been sleeping well, and compounded with the unexpected exertion of this exercise and the throbbing pain in his shoulder, fatigue wore him down sooner than he would've liked. His eyes were already closed under the blindfold. It was only natural, once he took a moment to sit down, that he'd fall asleep.

He dreamed of the Other.


	7. Overheard

_Author's Note._

_ Hey, everybody, thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you all like the story so far. I'm just writing this to thank Obsidian Butterfly for pointing out my misuse of Kurogane's nicknames. I will correct that as soon as the opportunity presents itself. I only got to read all the way through the series once, and when I was looking back for reference, my computer got swamped with viruses. As a result, there may be a few inconsistencies. Please feel free to point these out, as I want to try to be as true to the story as possible. Happy reading!_

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven<p>

The feather was suspended in a glass case, high in the bell tower. Syaoran stared up at the memory fragment, then walked up to the guards at the tower's entrance. Without a word, he unsheathed Hien. The guards raised their short-swords in defense. "I have to get it back," he said, voice devoid of all emotion.

"No one's allowed to enter the bell tower. The power up there is sacred."

"Move."

They didn't move. He swung Hien, his body used to the movement after so much practice with the sword master from Nihon. The two guards lifted their swords, not realizing how dire their situation was until Hien's scarlet flames wrapped around their weapons. One was wise; he fled. The other did not. Syaoran slew him with a decisive swing, splattering blood everywhere and drawing a single scream from the unnamed man before he collapsed in death.

As the man dropped, Syaoran sensed a presence behind him. He turned, staring at the empty air behind him. The part of him that was still connected to his clone recognized the aura of the Original.

He stared a moment longer, remembering how the Original had watched him, for just a moment, in the last country he'd landed in. There had been no feather there, he'd ascertained. The magician's eye had given him some sense of the magic, and when he'd sensed no great power in that world, he'd called on Fei Wang Reed to send him to the witch. After giving up the insignificant affection this body had held for the Princess of Clow, he'd received a charm that allowed him to traverse dimensions.

Satisfied the Original was unable to do any more than watch him, Syaoran stepped over the guard's corpse and pushed through the doors to the bell tower. He climbed the winding staircase, walking as if he was a tourist, not a thief.

If anyone came to stop him, he'd be able to bring them down with a swipe of his sword. Except for the feather, there was no great power in this world, nothing that could stop him, not even the body he'd been molded from.

He reached the top level then, almost smirking when he found it unguarded. For something that was supposedly one of the country's most sacred sites, the security was quite lax. Syaoran approached the glowing feather, shattering the glass that held it. It fell into his hand.

The sensation of eyes on the back of his neck grew stronger. He turned to face the presence, cradling the feather in his hand. Droplets of blood stained his fingertips, some old, some new. He didn't bother to wipe the blood away unless he needed to appear normal to acquire information. With the sword at his hip, he seldom had to.

To the Original, he said, "One down. Many, many more to go."

A surge of angry energy pulsed through the tower, as if the Original's emotions could somehow take shape in this world. Syaoran waited a moment to see if this surge of fury threatened him, then decided the Original wouldn't be so frustrated if it could.

He pocketed the feather, then descended down the stairs, moving with the ease and grace of a wolf.

* * *

><p>In Infinity, Syaoran woke with a start, hand flying up to his face as he surfaced from his dream. Even after his fingers encountered the soft fabric of his blindfold, it took him a moment to regain his bearings.<p>

His heart hammered against his ribs. The adrenaline rush had woken him, it seemed, not any outside force. The Other was looking for Sakura's feathers in some other world. Whatever the reason, the realization unnerved Syaoran enough to make a shudder run down his back.

For a moment, he considered taking his blindfold off, just so he could decide if he was hopelessly lost, or if he could still find his way back to the apartment. He decided to leave it on.

The streets were much quieter now, everyone returning to their homes for the night to rest. That meant fewer bumps and less annoyed shouts. He stood up, biting his lip as pain shot through his feet, and started in the direction he guessed would lead him to the apartment.

His brief sleep had rejuvenated him enough to keep him going until the roads grew crowded again. The sun fell across his dark shirt, warming him after the crisp night. He judged from the spots of heat that he was headed East, toward the sun. Their apartment building was somewhere in the eastern part of town. If he followed the trail of warmth, he might find his way back.

He still had to walk for hours. When the sun was shining directly on his head, he stopped and felt his feet for blisters. He found more than he wanted to think about, some of them already broken, blood crusted on the skin of his feet. People passed by, some turning their heads to stare, and he realized that he was becoming capable of sensing more distant obstacles. The discovery was enough to bring him to his feet.

He wandered another mile, relieved when he overheard a conversation he actually understood. His ears zeroed in on the sound. "Excuse me," he said. The couple who'd been speaking turned to him, recoiling a bit in surprise when they saw his blindfold(at least, he assumed that was the reason they reacted that way). "Can you tell me which way it is to the Ephemeral Apartments?"

After a confused jumble of words, the woman told him to keep going straight for two blocks, then turn right and walk another three. He thanked her, then hurried on his way.

He stopped at every intersection, waiting for someone else to cross the street before he dared brave the car-infested blacktop. That added a few minutes to his journey, minutes he only allowed for the sake of preserving his life.

On the way there, he asked for directions twice more, confirming that he was on the right path. Not once did he walk into an area where he didn't understand what everyone was saying. The relief was so great it made him want to smile for the first time in weeks. _Longer than that. It's been years since you've smiled in this body._

His customary frown deepened at that, but it didn't matter, because a few minutes later, he arrived at the doors of the Ephemeral Apartments. He followed these hallways with more confidence, knowing few people were moving about the building this time of day except to do chores like laundry.

Syaoran took the stairs, not sure if he remembered which buttons to push once he got into the moving boxes called elevators. Once he reached the right floor, he moved swiftly down the corridor leading to their apartment. It was the last door, stuck out at the end of the hallway instead of branching off to the sides like the others. That made it easy to find.

For a moment, he stood outside the door, pressing his ear against the wall to confirm that the people within were his group members and not total strangers. He reached for the handle when he heard Fai-san's voice.

His fingers froze as he realized what they were saying.

"It's not safe," Fai said, in a tone Syaoran had never heard him use. Hushed, but thick with anxiety. "We don't know anything about him except that he looks like the other one."

"He was being kept prisoner," Kurogane grumbled. Syaoran pressed his ear to the wall once again, listening more intently. "He has good reason to be on our side."

"Then why is he so secretive? He's barely said a word to any of us since we left Tokyo, and even before that, his explanations just barely covered what we didn't know about the clone."

"We know the name of our enemy now."

"That's not _enough_. It's still too much of a risk. He could've easily made that story up so we would take him in. For all we know, he could be even more of a psychopath than his clone."

Air hissed through his teeth, partly a gasp, and partly a noise of frustration. _How could they think that? All I did in Tokyo was damage control._

Another thought pushed the last one away. _How could _anyone _be more of a psychopath than my clone? _

"You don't know that," Kurogane muttered.

"And you don't know he's better than the other one. Look, all I'm saying is that I feel uneasy around him."

He couldn't have pulled his ear from the wall even if he'd wanted to.

"I'm being careful," Kurogane said. "I'm not teaching him anything that'll help him kill us if he turns out like the other one."

_If I turn out like him? _

"We can't expect things to turn out well if he's around," Fai said. "You must know that."

"I told you, I'm being careful. I don't want him to end up like that any more than you do."

There was a lull in the conversation. Syaoran pried his ear away from the wall.

_End up like that . . ._

_If I turn out like the other one . . ._

_"Never. I will never love you."_

Syaoran ripped the blindfold off his face and threw it down in front of the door. It hit the carpet with a muffled thud, not loud enough to draw their attention. He didn't care. He ran down the hallway, eyes adjusting to the glare of the ceiling lights even after being blinded so long. His vision blurred every few seconds, eyes sore from the sudden change.

He ran down the hallway, then down the stairwell, then out the door. He ran past the park where Kurogane had been working with him day and night since he'd started eating meals with them. He ran into the overflowing marketplace, running down the rows with the setting sun in his eyes.

When he was finally out of breath, he slowed and walked over to a less populated section of town, weaving through the more spacious residential areas like a child playing hide and seek. Feet aching, he walked until the houses started to thin out and gradually disappear.

After a time, he came across the stump of a tree. He sat down, the pain in his feet becoming too much with relief in sight. And for the first time in years, Syaoran cried.


	8. Worried

Chapter Eight

The sun peered through the curtains, sitting on the horizon as it shed its blinding rays across the living room.

"Kurogane, are you going to help with dinner?" the magician asked, as if their confrontation this afternoon hadn't happened.

The ninja glanced up. "Since when did you start calling me by name?"

The mage pretended to think about it for a second. "Actually, I was trying to decide if it would sound better to use your real name or the nicknames. What do you think?"

"You called me by name Tokyo, too. Why?"

Fai shrugged. "Don't you prefer it that way?"

Kurogane glared, annoyed that it had taken the mage this long to call him by name. He'd hated the nicknames from the moment the idiot had first spoken. Big Puppy, Kuro-pon, Kuro-rin. The most recent one was more annoying than all the rest: Daddy. The mere insinuation that he filled in as some father-figure for the group, or that he even _liked _kids, irked him more than he would've believe possible.

Maybe it was the mocking way the magician had said those names that bugged him so much. The nicknames weren't exactly sarcastic, but the singsong voice the mage used to address him reminded him of children running amok. Or maybe it was the fact that, if he'd really _wanted_ to be a father figure to someone, he would've had kids.

He sighed, hearing dinner sizzle on the stove behind him. "My regular name is fine," he said, not bothering to decipher the mage's reason for giving up nicknames. Sunlight streamed in through the window, laying gold patches across the floor.

_The kid should've been back by now, _he thought, staring at the light patch. He'd expected Syaoran to find his way back hours ago, or to have given up the blindfold and found his way back without it. It didn't exactly _worry _him that the kid was taking longer than he expected. The boy could've easily found a place to rest and added a few hours to his quest that way. It wasn't unreasonable that he'd come wandering in after traffic of the streets thinned out a little.

"Time to set the table," Fai announced, flipping a flattened disk of ground beef in the frying pan to sear the other side. The ninja rose from the couch and moved toward the cupboards. He grabbed four plates, in the habit of doing so after a week of dragging the boy over to the table for meals. After a moment, he put one of them back and set the other three on the dinner table.

Dinner passed with little fanfare. Without the kid here, conversation flowed freely between the magician and the princess. A few times, Fai tried to drag him into the conversation, calling him by name twice, hoping for him to get over their argument.

Kurogane responded with terse, one-syllable answers. After several failed attempts to engage him in conversation, Fai gave up and spoke only to Sakura and the white pork bun.

The boy still hadn't returned by the end of dinnertime.

Fai went to bed a short while later, still grinning even though it was his turn to sleep on the floor. Sakura picked a snoozing Mokona off the arm of the couch and carried the manju bun to her room, closing the door behind her.

Two hours passed. By the time Kurogane gave up on waiting for the kid to return, the streets down below were almost totally devoid of cars, and the sidewalks were barren except for the quick movements of workers returning home from the late shift. He went to bed, figuring the kid would slip back into the apartment while he slept.

The following morning, the ninja left his bedroom and walked over to the kid's, expecting him to be asleep. Kurogane knocked on the wooden door, then paused a moment, waiting for a response.

"Kid, you in there?" he asked, when there was no answer.

No response. Kurogane pushed down on the metal handle, surprised when it moved freely. The kid usually locked his door at night.

As the door swung open, he realized why. _He's still not back? _

He closed the door, feeling the first twinge of actual worry since leaving the kid out in the city.

The others were starting to wake. Fai popped his head out of their shared room first, too sprightly for this early in the day. "Good morning, Kurogane!" he sang, twirling as he swept through the living room. The ninja wouldn't have thought hearing his real name would be just as annoying as hearing those stupid nicknames.

"The kid's not back."

The magician went still for a moment, then resumed his spinning. "Didn't know you were still waiting."

"I'm going to look for him. It's possible he's wandering around in the lobby." He grabbed Souhi off the coffee table, not because he thought he needed it, but because it didn't feel right to go out without a sword on his hip.

"Try to be back in time for breakfast."

Kurogane ignored the magician, walking over to the front door and opening it wide.

He never made it passed the threshold. A piece of cloth sat prominently on the industrial gray carpet, laying in an untidy clump where it had been left. From the amount of fabric, one would naturally assume it was a bundled up T-shirt, or some similar garment, tossed casually aside or dropped on the way in.

He knelt down, not wanting to believe the thoughts racing through his head. As his fingers wrapped around the soft, slippery fabric, though, he knew.

"What's wrong?" Fai asked.

Slowly, he stood, the folded up piece of fabric laying flat across the palm of his hand and spilling over the edges of his fingertips.

"Kurogane-san?" Sakura asked, rubbing her eyes as she peered out of her room.

"He was here."

"Who?"

"The kid. Shit, he must've overheard us yesterday."

Fai gave the blindfold a guarded look, as if some of the kid had rubbed off in the folds, and it was disturbing the magician simply by being within sight. "Well."

"I'm going to be gone a while," was all the ninja said.

* * *

><p>The pain in his stomach eventually overshadowed the pain in his heart.<p>

The sky was lightening, the sun just barely peeking above the horizon. Syaoran glanced up, surprised at how early it was getting light out. He stared for a moment, the pale pink streaks of light carving their image into his retinas.

Sighing, he wiped his face. He hadn't cried _all _night, but his face was sticky with half-dried tears, and his throat ached almost as much as his shoulder. The pain in his stomach had graduated beyond the stage of gnawing hunger and into a more painful degree of emptiness. He knew if he didn't eat soon, he would start getting lightheaded.

Syaoran stood, not realizing how tight the muscles in his back were until he tried to straighten them out. The stiffness in his spine didn't go away even as he trudged back toward the main part of the city.

Used to trying different foods from every country he visited, he stopped at the first food vendor he saw and ordered the only thing available at the stall: spiced pork ribs drenched in some kind of sauce called "barbeque." He pulled a handful of napkins from the metal square and took his meal to the first bench he saw.

He ate until he felt sick, using up all his napkins in the process. Since he didn't really feel like going back to the apartment complex, where he'd have to face the apathetic looks and evasive movements of his traveling companions, he wandered through the city, window-shopping. He walked through a store with clothes for every occasion, then a candy shop that seemed somehow out of place in the busy city, as if it was too whimsical to be sitting next to a street littered with discarded paper bags and drink containers. On impulse, he bought a square of fudge big enough for his companions to split. Perhaps a peace offering would diffuse the tension a bit when he got back.

That about used up what pocket money he'd had with him when he'd left. He wandered a while more, keeping track of his location so he would be able to find the apartment complex when he grew hungry again. Much of this time, he spent people-watching. Mokona must've been close, because he understood every conversation around him.

He'd wandered in a series of loops all around the two-mile distance from the apartment when he saw the familiar figure walking through a park, dressed all in black. For a moment, he thought it was Kurogane, searching for him. Feeling guilty for troubling the ninja when he was already on thin ice with everyone else, he started in that direction, walking slowly on his sore feet.

He was only a few meters away when he realized the man in black wasn't the sword master. He paused, wondering why the tall man had looked so familiar to him from behind, then turned to go back.

"Going so soon, Syaoran?" Hearing his name come from someone else's lips startled him enough to make him look back. Before he even saw the face attached to the voice, he realized why the man had looked so familiar to him.

"Seishirou-san."


	9. Beaten

Chapter Nine

"Seishirou-san . . ."

The dark-haired man smiled at him, in that confident way he always did. Syaoran retreated a few steps, sensing danger like a rabbit sensing a wolf.

"Going so soon? I was under the impression I had something you wanted." Seishirou pulled one of Sakura's feathers out from his coat pocket, displaying it so casually. Syaoran froze, eyes fixed on the pale feather. "Or was it only the other kid that wanted this?"

He looked up sharply. _The other kid . . . _"You know?"

"When you've seen as many worlds as I have, you can tell the difference between the original and a copy. So tell me, Syaoran: how well did your copy reflect you?" He pocketed the feather, leaving his hand open. Black clouds formed near that hand, tightening up into the shape of a sword in the second he watched.

In a second, he processed the danger he was in. He had no backup, not this far from the others. _If they would even help me now, _he thought, knowing his clone hadn't stood a chance in Outo, and he didn't stand even half that chance now, exhausted as he was.

_Not in a fight, anyway. _He fumbled for something that would keep his clone's teacher from using that sword. "V-vampires. I met the vampires."

Surprise flitted across the man's face, and his sword hand relaxed. Syaoran felt a moment of relief, before he felt the fingers coil around his throat.

"In what world?"

"Give me . . . the feather."

The fingers tightened, cutting off his air supply. His body writhed, no longer under control of his mind. "You'll tell me now."

"No."

The hand released his throat. A moment later, Syaoran found himself facedown on the ground, a foot pressing down between his shoulder-blades. "Not much like the other kid, huh?"

"Give me the feather."

The foot pressed down harder, until he heard something crack. He went still, fearing the older man had snapped his spine, then breathing out in relief when he realized he could still feel his blistered feet. "Tell me where they are."

"I need the feather."

"Do you want to die?"

The Other had looked up to Seishirou as a mentor. In Clow Country, the man had been remarkably pleasant to be around, sociable on top of being skilled. In Outo, his clone's perceptions had changed, analyzing his teacher's motives with a more mature mind than he'd previously possessed. But up until the man had stabbed him through the heart in the made-up country, the Other had never really believed this man would hurt him.

Syaoran knew better. Seishirou wouldn't ask a question like that unless he meant to act on it, and there was very little chance of him defeating his old teacher right now. "Tokyo. There was a country named Tokyo, a country where the rain burned like acid, and almost everyone in the world had died. But they left. The vampire twins left right after we did. They're probably in some other world by now."

The foot lifted from his back, and he relished the opportunity to breathe. He rose half a foot off the ground, still supporting himself by his hands and knees. Seishirou stepped away. "Is that all you know?"

"Let me go. Please, just let me go."

"Answer my question."

"That's all."

"You're lying. What else is there?"

_Fai. _"Nothing."

The tip of Seishirou's shoe touched the bottom of Syaoran's chin and tilted his head up. "Tell me."

"It's not my secret to tell." He wasn't sure if it _was _a secret, since Fai was displaying his vampire powers in the arena, but if it was and he told, he'd be flinging himself out of the proverbial frying pan and into the fire. _If I don't get burned right now, anyway. _"And it's not relevant to finding the vampire twins."

Seishirou's eyes tightened a fraction of an inch. Syaoran rose to his feet, moving slowly, submissively.

"Anything else?" Seishirou asked.

He shook his head, back almost straight now. His hands shook, the barest of shivers. He'd feared for his life before, but that didn't make the adrenaline flooding his system any less intense. His heart pounded, his shoulder throbbing painfully in response to each beat. Had he reopened the wound? He couldn't tell if the bandages were wet again, not with the adrenaline numbing his body.

His eyes flicked up to Seishirou's again, noting the faint shine to the glass eye embedded in the man's face. Without processing anything else, Syaoran whipped around and sprinted out of the park.

He ran until his legs burned, convinced his old teacher would pursue him. Every few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder, waiting for some telltale flash of movement.

The sky had clouded over since he'd run into his old mentor, he realized as his legs started to give out beneath him. He slowed.

_Just breathe. Just breathe, and everything will be okay. _He closed his eyes, leaning heavily against a wall. Part of his mind urged him to keep moving, but after spending most of last night and all of today wandering around, his feet felt cracked and sore. Whatever blisters he'd had a few hours ago had most certainly burst in his flight. _How far have I walked? _he wondered. _Twenty miles? Thirty? _There was no way to be sure. He knew a marathon was twenty-eight, and that untrained runners who tried to attempt such a feat ended the day with bloody feet and blisters galore. Walking was probably a little easier on the feet, but still, he imagined he'd gone quite a ways since being dropped off two nights ago.

Someone passed by on the nearest street, chatting loudly with whoever they were walking next to. Syaoran sighed as he realized he couldn't understand them. _Another two miles to walk, at the least. _He wished he'd done the smart thing and run _towards_ his destination, instead of away. _No, that might've drawn Seishirou to the others._

He sat in the alley a few minutes more, shaking. _When did you become so weak? _part of him demanded. _You walked this far, why are you resting now? Stop acting like such a child. _

"I'm not a child," he muttered, talking to himself again. If anyone had been listening, they would've assumed he was mentally ill, listening to voices inside his head.

_Maybe if you focused a little less on your feet and a little more on your real problems, you wouldn't have to wallow in self-pity like this. _

He sighed.

_You've already got a mass-murdering clone running amok, ruining your name in countries you've never been to. Not to mention you've got another enemy wandering around in the same world as you, looking for information. Your feet should be the least of your worries. _

Far above him, muffled by the walls of the skyscrapers, thunder resounded through the clouds. His head tilted up, eyes opening as he waited for another flash of lightning. Storms were common obstacles in any world, but he didn't want to be caught out in the rain even with help close at hand. Forcing himself to his feet, he pressed on, circling the building he'd been leaning against for fifteen minutes now. Every step was agony.

His pace slowed considerably under the force of the pain. After his brief contact with Seishirou, his shoulder ached all over again. When he lifted a hand to the bandages, his fingers came back speckled in blood.

He was still out of Mokona's translation range when he felt the first raindrop come down on the back of his hand. The dark clouds above him resembled bruises more and more as the light waned. The heavens must have felt the pain of those bruises, because after the first few drops fell, the sky let loose a torrent of freshwater tears.

_It was raining that day, too, _he thought, remembering how the Other had woken up in Clow Country, covered in bandages and unable to communicate with anyone. _The day my father found me. _

For once, he didn't correct the possessive in his thoughts. Fujitaka-san was just as much a father to him as he had been to the Other. _Even if I wasn't there for that, I learned almost as much from him as the Other did. _

_It may have been raining that day, _another part of him thought, _but if you're hoping for another new start, you're going to be sadly mistaken. _

The rain was coming down a lot harder now, thunderous sobs tearing free of the clouds. Torrents of icy tears smashed into his face and seeped into his clothes. In just a few minutes, his body shivered like a tuning fork struck against a metal pole.

Night set in, evidenced only by the street lamps turning on around him. The rain wet the blood that had dried to his legs and feet, so he left red footprints wherever he walked. It also seeped into the bandages on his shoulder, irritating what was left of his wound and leaving his flesh uncomfortably clammy.

It was still hours before he made it to the apartment complex.


	10. Bandaged

_Author's Note_

_I know you guys are probably wondering why this story is rated M when, ten chapters in, none of the content is outwardly violent or sexually explicit. Just wanted to tell you not to worry. We're getting there. Things tend to get dark pretty quickly once I hit a certain point in every story, which is why everything I write is rated M, even if it starts out relatively benign. Anyway, thanks for reading this far, and I hope you guys are enjoying it._

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten<p>

Kurogane changed out of his dripping clothes, throwing them in the laundry basket in the corner of the room.

_Damn it, _he thought. _Where the hell is that kid? _He looked at the blindfold he'd given the kid, lying across his bed as a reminder of how anything that happened to that brat would be his fault.

He put on a dry outfit, then sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. "Damn it."

Fai peered in through the door, the last person in the world Kurogane wanted to see right now. The mage didn't _have _to forgive the kid, but he didn't have to treat him like that, either. _Kid probably overheard that argument and thought he'd be better off out there. Shit._

"I saved you a sandwich from dinner," the magician said, subdued.

He sighed. "If you think you're helping Sakura by trying to get rid of the kid, you're even more of an idiot than I thought."

Fai flinched as if the insinuation actually insulted him. It was a moment before he spoke. "You didn't find anything, then?"

"No."

Another silence. The mage retreated without a word.

The ninja almost followed him, just for the sake of having a good, potentially violent argument. Almost.

When he hadn't found the kid in the lobby, Kurogane had searched the surrounding area, starting at the park they'd used for training. He'd half-expected the kid to go there, since it was familiar. When the kid hadn't turned up at the park, he'd gone looking around the battle dome, even checking with the receptionist at the built-in hospital to see if he'd been admitted. None of those locations had panned out; he'd spent the rest of the day wandering around as far as Mokona's translation range extended, expecting the kid to at least have had the brains to stay where he could be understood.

His search hadn't yielded a single clue. If the kid had wandered out of range, there wasn't much he could do. The brat would have to communicate at some point. That meant he'd need to return.

_Unless he's dead. _The possibility of the kid getting hit by those metal boxes called cars had crossed his mind, but if the kid had made it back with the blindfold without getting hit, he probably wouldn't have wandered into traffic while he could see. _Maybe I was wrong. _

He shook his head, annoyed at the thought. He was seldom wrong.

_But if I was . . . Shit. Just shit. _He stood up and headed out to the living room. The window there had a wider view of the world outside. If the kid was coming back, there was at least a fifty percent chance he'd pass the building on that side.

Fai was sitting on the edge of the couch, looking a bit like a beaten dog. Kurogane could only guess the problem based on their fight this morning. In hindsight, calling the vampire a bloodsucking monster was probably not his best idea. He'd meant it, of course, but it had been unwise to say so.

"Sakura-chan went to sleep an hour ago," the magician said. "I think her body is starting to give out again. The sooner we find another feather, the better off she'll be."

"Hasn't that always been the case?"

"I suppose so. In the beginning, anyway. Even as well as she's doing now, she won't be at full strength until she gets all her feathers back."

"And until then, we need every bit of help we can get," Kurogane said, not even trying to be subtle.

To his surprise, Fai agreed. "Syaoran agreed to help us look for the rest of the feathers. That doesn't make me any less wary of him, but it might help at some point later on. If he comes back."

Kurogane nodded. "He'll do whatever it takes to stay in our good graces."

"It's still strange to me, though. He's not as adamant about finding the feathers as the other Syaoran was. I don't know if he's naturally less driven, or if he feels the necessity isn't as great as it was in the beginning. It could be that he has other goals in mind, harmful or not. It'd help to know just what our adversaries are planning for us."

"It'd help," Kurogane agreed. "but it's not necessary. Even if we were to find out we were just pawns in a game, we'd probably still do what we've been doing, collecting feathers for the princess. In the end, it doesn't matter who we're up against. Our goal's not changing."

"No. I suppose not. You're still trying to go to your home world, and I'm still trying to run from mine. We'd end up doing this on our way there, regardless."

_Finally, you get my point, _Kurogane thought, thinking these past few weeks would've gone a lot easier if they'd just had this conversation right off the bat.

"When we first started this journey, you said something to Syaoran," Fai murmured. "You said, 'Don't expect me to stick my neck out for you. Don't expect me to help you.' At the time, it didn't really surprise me that you'd say that; you weren't the most outgoing of us, and that kind of thing was right in line with what I knew of your personality. But at some point, that changed. You went out of your way to help that kid, training him in Outo, helping him find the feathers. You said you wouldn't go out of your way for him. So why now? Why, when this isn't the same kid we spent most of our journey with?"

Kurogane felt his eyes narrow. "What's it matter?"

Fai frowned. "It doesn't, I guess. I just expected that what you said back there would hold true for me, too, especially since you hated me so much."

"What are you getting at?"

"Why did you save me in Tokyo? Why not just let me die?"

He shrugged. "I told you, we need every bit of help we can get. If that means keeping you around, even in this condition, I'll do it. Who knows, it might pay off one day."

The vampire was silent for a moment, staring at his feet. A sound from the hall made them both glance up.

_Is it him? _Kurogane wondered, just as the door swung open.

* * *

><p>Passing over the threshold was like passing through the ribbon at the end of a race. Syaoran staggered into the apartment, stepping gingerly across the patch of linoleum that made up the entryway. As he entered, two figures rose up from their seats on the couch, figures he recognized without having to look directly at them.<p>

The larger of the two figures skirted past the arm of the couch, approaching him with one arm extended as if to help. Syaoran glanced up to see Kurogane wearing an expression he'd never seen him wear. "Damn it, kid, I thought you were dead."

"Oh," he said, not sure what the correct response to that was.

"You're bleeding," announced the second figure. Hearing Fai's voice aimed at him shocked him enough to look past the ninja.

"Sorry," he whispered, glancing down to see how much blood he'd tracked into the entryway.

"Sit down and hold still," Kurogane instructed, offering a hand and easing him down to the floor. The sheer relief of being off his feet made Syaoran sigh. "Shoes off."

"I'll get blood everywhere."

"Doesn't matter."

Fai slipped into the bathroom a few feet away and returned with a roll of bandages and antiseptic. He set those down by Kurogane's feet, then gathered up a roll of paper towels to wipe the blood away. Syaoran slipped his shoes off, wincing as the leather pulled at his brown-crusted socks. Dreading the next part, he peeled the first sock off, ripping away some of the scabs with it. If pain could be quantified and measured in particles the size of sand, he'd have had enough of it to build a small fortress.

A quiet sigh pierced the air beside him. "Why'd you walk so far while your feet were like this?" Kurogane demanded.

"I'm sorry."

"I asked you a question."

"I . . . don't know," he lied. "It didn't seem this bad before." The ninja picked up the bottle of antiseptic and dipped a cotton ball in the solution. All the mental preparation in the world couldn't have stopped his body from writhing in agony when the stinging liquid came down on his abraded feet.

"Easy, kid! Your feet are going to get infected if they don't get treated."

"I found the aspirin," Fai said, handing Syaoran the bottle. He hastily unscrewed the cap and swallowed two of the fat pills. "I'll get you some water."

"I think I've had enough water for a while," he muttered, trying to maintain his good humor through the pain. It wasn't a very convincing attempt, even soaking wet as he was. After over an hour of walking through the rain, his clothes and hair were sopping wet, and he couldn't stop shivering.

Fai brought him a glass anyway, to wash down the aspirin. He drank deeply, surprised he was thirsty after an hour in the rain, and more surprised that the magician was offering him help.

"This is going to hurt," Kurogane warned him, holding up a freshly doused cotton ball. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the onslaught of pain.

He wasn't disappointed. The antiseptic burned and bubbled against his skin, moving deep into his broken blisters and sending waves of heat through his foot. Instinctively, he kicked, almost knocking over the brown bottle in the process. His lungs seized up, as if he was about to cry, but no sound came out.

This torture went on for almost five minutes before Kurogane started wrapping bandages around his ankle. "You hurt anywhere else?"

He thought about lying, just to avoid the pain of the antiseptic in his wounds, then decided they'd figure out what was wrong either way. "I think I ripped open my shoulder again."

Within moments, his soaked shirt was lying across the floor, leaving the equally soaked bandages in plain view. After two nights, they were stained with dry blood and a clear, sticky liquid that had been oozing out of the wound. "Shit," Kurogane muttered.

"I'm sorry."

"Quit saying that and hold still." The ninja started peeling bandages off.

Either the painkillers were starting to take effect, or his body was going numb with adrenaline, because the pain in his feet and shoulder was starting to go away. He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. Distantly, he was aware of the peeling bandages and the stinging antiseptic, but as he started to go numb, those things ceased to matter.

"Kid?" someone asked him, though he couldn't really comprehend who was speaking. "Kid, you all right? Hey, kid!"

The voice slipped away into some distant abyss, and he was dreaming again.


	11. Fed

Chapter Eleven

"Kid, you all right? Hey, kid!"

"He's out," Fai muttered, dabbing the antiseptic onto the broken blisters. The cotton ball fizzed, dripping blood. "He walked a long way; I'd imagine he's exhausted."

"He shouldn't have gone so far. He was just outside the door. Why leave again?"

Fai said nothing, unrolling more bandages and wrapping them around the boy's swollen feet. _Because he'd rather face this kind of pain than stay here knowing he's not welcome, _the magician thought, feeling the first stirrings of pity he'd ever felt for this Syaoran. _A world where you find yourself unwelcome is no world to live in._

"What do you think happened to him?" Fai asked, just for something to talk about. Kurogane finished stripping the rain-soaked bandages off the boy's shoulder, revealing an oozing wound. Fai examined it carefully, noting the discolorations around the cut, the puffy red edges of the wound. _That'll need antiseptic._

"Who knows? Maybe he'll tell us when he wakes up."

_And maybe he won't. _The words went unsaid, but they both heard him. Fai had pressed his point often in the past few days. The kid kept secrets, secrets that concerned all of them. Would it be such a surprise that he'd chanced across another valuable piece of information he was unwilling to share?

Kurogane dumped some antiseptic over the boy's wound and started wrapping it. "Get a towel. He'll get sick if he doesn't get dried off."

Fai ducked into the bathroom and retrieved a towel. He handed it to the ninja, who went straight to drying Syaoran's hair. Fai watched this with mild fascination. If he'd watched the scene knowing only what he'd known about the ninja the day they'd met, the act of compassion would've seemed unnatural.

"_Don't expect me to stick my neck out for you. Don't expect me to help you. I won't do it!" _

"What the hell are you grinning about?"

"Nothing," Fai said, his smile widening. The first real smile in days_. _"You've just changed so much since I first met you."

The ninja rolled his eyes, picking the boy up off the floor and taking him over to the couch. Syaoran didn't stir.

With his features slackened in sleep, Fai could almost forget this kid wore the same face as the one who'd betrayed them in Tokyo.

"It's late," Kurogane said, covering the kid with a blanket. "C'mon."

Fai followed the ninja to their shared room, surprised when Kurogane turned the lights on instead of just lying down like he normally did. As Fai watched, the ninja took his sword out of the sheath at his hip and moved the blade across his arm. A thin line of blood popped up against his bronze skin.

Fai stared at the red, the rest of the world fading away around him. His fingernails shifted at the ends of his fingertips, growing longer and heavier. The fibers of the carpet suddenly became a little clearer to his eyes, the edges of the walls a little more defined. The sensation, the _need_, overpowered him, left him stunned and motionless.

"You might as well get on with it," Kurogane said, as if he was offering him a glass of water instead of . . . Fai's throat tightened up.

"I'm not . . ."

"Drink. Before I lose my temper and withhold it out of spite."

The blood ran down the side of the ninja's arm, threatening to drip onto the floor. Fai actually felt it when his resolve crumbled. It was like his body was a piano wire stretched too tight, finally snapping under the pressure. He knelt down, ashamed and humiliated by the intensity of his bloodlust, and lowered his lips to the precious crimson liquid, drinking deep.

Being magically bound to another person came with interesting side-effects. One of them was the ability to sense the other's emotions, especially in times of close contact. As soon as the blood splashed across his tongue, Fai sensed the acute stress Kurogane was under. It was all concentrated within, bound up in a tight ball somewhere at the ninja's core. Some of it, he knew, was left over from previous worlds, but much of the stress was new, caused by the recent circumstances. Most dominant were the threads of worry, tangled about the dark-haired man's heart.

_You were really worried about this Syaoran, weren't you? _Fai thought, directing the words toward the ninja until he realized Kurogane wasn't getting the same feedback from the blood exchange as he was. Instead, the ninja was staring at the wall, wearing that distant expression that came only when he was deep in thought. Once he isolated that emotion, the details behind it jumped into clarity.

The concern Kurogane expressed on the surface was a pale shadow next to the vast expanse of worry he'd been feeling a few minutes ago. The kid was back, and that had been enough to relieve his fears, but as Fai probed deeper into the ninja's thoughts, he realized some of the concern had remained even after Syaoran had returned, shifting its focus. Instead of being worried about the kid being dead, the ninja was worried about the kid's emotional well-being.

Fai looked up again to see the thoughtful look on Kurogane's face being replaced by a dazed look. Quickly, he withdrew, realizing how much blood he'd taken in his abstraction.

"Sorry."

The ninja waved off his apology, still looking vaguely dizzy. "Just go to sleep."

Fai curled up on the mattress on the floor and closed his eye, blue again now that his need for blood had been sated. Across the room, the ninja threw a blanket over his shoulders and did the same.

* * *

><p>A spot of heat over his face disturbed him enough to wake him up. Syaoran's eyelids fluttered, head shrinking away from the brilliant streaks of light stabbing at his eyes. Instantly, he knew the light was wrong for his room. If anything, the light should've been hitting the door, not his bed, pushed up against the wall.<p>

He sat up, lifting a hand to shield his sensitive eyes. The movement pulled at his shoulder, and he winced, wondering how much longer it was going to take to heal. The pain distracted him from his surroundings, and it took him several seconds to realize where he'd slept.

_They must've carried me here after I passed out, _he thought, looking down at the beige couch. He caught sight of his bandaged feet. He remembered the first few coils of white being wrapped around one foot, but he didn't remember finishing the bindings. _So they did that, too._ He sighed and let his toes trace the carpet. The light pressure sent a stab of pain through his feet. His throat tightened in response.

_Quit acting so weak, _he told himself. _Your clone stabbed you in the leg a few weeks ago; this should be nothing._

Slowly, he eased himself into a standing position, biting his lip as sparks of agony shot up his legs. His arms reached out to the surrounding furniture to support some of his weight. Still, it took him almost a minute to make it to his bedroom.

Once inside, he took a break, plopping down on the small cot and leaning the back of his head against the wall. He waited for the pain to drain away from his legs, then moved toward the pile of clothes he'd acquired since coming to Infinity. He stripped off his dirty clothes, still damp from the rain, and dressed, vowing to bathe later today when his feet hurt less.

For a while, he just sat there, sorting through things. The pain in his feet, the two days he'd spent wandering around, meeting with Seishirou . . . _I have to tell them about that, _he thought to himself. _We might not be able to get the feather, but I still have to tell them. _He'd do that during breakfast, he decided. Kurogane would drag him to the table, if he had to, and as long as he was forced to sit there, Syaoran figured he might as well break the silence. _But for now, it's time to rest._

He closed his eyes, surprised he didn't nod off immediately. Then he realized he hadn't dreamed last night, like he usually did. "First decent night of sleep I've had in ages," he murmured to himself. Perhaps the lack of nightmares meant his clone wasn't out killing people at the moment. That was comforting.

Beyond his door, a pair of footsteps creaked across the floorboards. A moment later, the sound of pots and pans clanging together filled the air. _Breakfast, _he thought, stomach snarling. Even with the meal he'd consumed yesterday, his stomach felt like a barren pit.

Accustomed to being called out to meals, the urge to get up and join whoever was cooking startled him out of his relaxed state. Of course, he'd be little use in the kitchen, crippled as he was. Even so, the thought persisted, weaving its way into every other thought. If he went out there and actually talked to someone, there was a chance they might not hate him so much.

"You're not usually so optimistic," he told himself, then bit his lip at the commotion in the kitchen stopped. Had someone heard him talking to himself? Very quietly, he muttered, "Awkward."

The music of sizzling pancakes and scraping spatulas resumed, and he pulled himself to his feet, using the bed frame for support. Every step a trial, he moved to his door and pressed down on the metal handle. The door swung wide, and he took his first step out into the living room.

He'd expected Fai to be cooking, like he always did. As it turned out, it was Sakura.


	12. Told

Chapter Twelve

The startled look she gave him said more than any book could have. He saw apprehension, displeasure, rejection, and apathy, all mingling together on her face for one awful second before she returned her attention to the frying pan.

"Good morning," he said, trying to ignore the splinters of ice her glance had jammed into his heart. Sakura gave no reply, but he could see the line of tension in her back, the mechanical motions of her arm as she flipped the doughy circles over in the pan.

He winced as his foot came down across the carpet, then decided to find a closer destination than the table. Sitting down on the arm of the couch, he spoke again. "Do you want me to set the table?"

Still no answer.

The others slept in their room, undisturbed by the loud crashing of pots and pans. Syaoran decided it wouldn't do any harm to keep talking to Sakura, even if he received no response. "So, I think I'll be able to go back to the arena within the next couple days. I didn't think I'd be out of it this long, but . . . Anyway, how did things go without me?"

Her shoulders stiffened, but nothing else.

"Probably better, right?" he went on, trying to cover up the sadness he felt at the thought. _You have no right to feel sad over her, _he reminded himself. _She's not yours._ "With an apartment this size, it must be a relief to clear out even one person. Plus, the dinner table wouldn't be so crowded with just three people."

Her hands slammed down on the counter, startling him out of his ramblings. "Stop that," she said, in a tone he'd never heard her use before. It left him speechless long enough for her to plow through her next words. "You'll never be him, so stop trying. I can't stand it."

His heart sunk down to his stomach, and his eyes drifted down to the floor. Before the words could sink in any more than that, one of the bedroom doors swung open, and Kurogane wandered out, rubbing his forehead as if he couldn't fathom why anyone would be up at this hour. When the ninja saw him perched on the couch, he did a double-take.

"Morning," Syaoran said, trying to keep his voice cheerful even as the rest of him spiraled deeper into despair.

"You changed clothes," Kurogane noted, too stunned to say anything else. "You were walking around with those injuries?"

He shrugged. "More or less."

The ninja blinked, then turned towards Sakura. From the way he stared, he was evidently surprised to see her up and cooking at this hour.

Syaoran eased back to his feet, noticing their breakfast was almost done. He limped over to the table, taking his usual seat. Part of him wanted to set the table, as a favor to the others. His legs protested at the thought of any unnecessary movement, though, so he stayed put.

"Mage," Kurogane called, facing the bedroom. "It's time for breakfast."

Fai peeked his head out from the doorway. When he saw Syaoran already at the table, he reacted exactly as Kurogane had, doing a double-take.

_Weird morning, _Syaoran thought, watching the magician from the corner of his eye.

After everyone had taken a spot at the table, Syaoran contemplated a way to introduce the topic of Seishirou without disrupting the easy flow of the morning.

"I bought fudge while I was out," he announced, pulling the little box from his pocket and setting it on the table. Everyone stared at him like he'd just grown a third eye. "And also, I ran into Seishirou before I got back," he went on, in an equally casual tone.

The past week had been filled with awkward silences and wary glances, but there had always been the scraping of forks against the plates and the sound of teeth tearing up pieces of food. All that ceased after his statement. The silence pressed down on his eardrums like lead weights.

Syaoran lifted his fork and stabbed one of the pancakes on his plate. The sound of the metal fork breaking through the dough and hitting the plate underneath seemed to jolt the others out of their speechlessness.

"Why are we just finding out about this now?" Kurogane demanded.

"I wasn't going to wake you up to tell you that. I'm not suicidal."

The ninja lifted a hand, as if to hit him. Syaoran shut his eyes, every muscle in his body going rigid as he prepared for the blow. It never came. Instead, Kurogane brought his hand down on the table with a loud crash. "Tell us what happened."

Syaoran fidgeted under their collective stare, his eyes focusing instead on a smudge of syrup on the edge of his plate. For a long moment, he said nothing, not sure which parts of the story they would react to, and which parts were unimportant. Syaoran decided to skip over the part where Seishirou had threatened to kill him. "He was just standing there, in the city park. I thought I recognized him, so I went closer . . ."

"And then?"

He bit his lip, organizing the story in his mind. "He knew I was there without even looking at me. After that, he asked if I was still looking for the feathers. Seishirou-san still has the one he had in Outo, and I was hoping to get that back, but . . ."

The others waited for him to finish with varying expressions. Sakura stared at the table, her face the same muddled mix of emotions it had been when she'd seen him this morning. Fai looked as if he'd just been punched in the gut. Kurogane was tense, staring at him with unmoving crimson eyes.

"Seishirou-san wasn't willing to give the feather up. I know the device in his eye will only allow him to cross a certain number of dimensions. It's possible he's trying to increase that number with the power of the feather, or using it to magnify his other abilities."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know." He lifted a piece of pancake to his lips and swallowed quickly, buying himself a second to think. "I told him the vampire twins are probably in some new dimension now. If he hasn't left already, he will soon."

"You told him that?" Fai demanded. Hearing the magician raise his voice sounded so odd to his ears that he actually lost his train of thought for a moment.

"That's all I told him. I left out what actually _happened _in Tokyo. So, anyway, if we're going to try and track him down, we have to go soon." _We'll probably die, but since when has that ever stopped us? _

"You can't be walking around with your feet bound up like that," Kurogane said.

"I can walk well enough."

"You can hardly stand."

"We have to get the feathers back, no matter the cost. Since Seishirou-san was my teacher, I should be the one to deal with it."

"Thought you said you weren't suicidal," Kurogane grumbled.

He stabbed at his second pancake, eyebrows coming together in a single line. "I'm not."

"You're staying here," the ninja said with finality. "Watch over the princess."

Sakura bristled, but said nothing as Syaoran nodded.

"Anything else you want to tell us?"

"That fudge is going to go stale if you just let it sit there."

The ninja rolled his eyes. "This isn't the time to be joking."

_No, heaven forbid anyone ever laughs at anything._ "Sorry."He ate the last bite of his pancake and limped over to the sink to wash his plate. Feeling unaccountably exhausted even after the solid hours of sleep, Syaoran walked over to his room.

He sat down immediately after walking inside, his feet protesting every time they so much as brushed the floor. Syaoran sank into the sheets, closing his eyes.

_It's better, _he reasoned. _At least they're all speaking to me now. Maybe I can win them back._

_Never. I will never love you. _The words intruded on his moment of optimism, like ice water running down the nape of his neck. He wrapped his arms around his torso, trying to drive the frigid sensation out. It lingered there, polluting every cell of his body, turning his blood to ice.

_Never. _

"I know that," he whispered to himself. "Of course I know that." _I am not hers, and she is not mine. _

Driving the point home, a flash of Sakura's smiling face flickered through his mind. The logical part of him knew he'd never actually seen her smile, but the emotional part of him knew he wanted to. Only the Other had seen it, and it was only by virtue of the Other's memories that Syaoran knew how beautiful Sakura was when she smiled.

_I could never make her smile like that. Never._

_Never._


	13. Met

Chapter Thirteen

"Mokona senses a feather, but it's very faint."

Kurogane glanced at the manju bun, wishing the witch had put a more sophisticated tracking device inside the thing. "How far?"

"Far."

He sighed. "Great. We have to bring you with."

Mokona smiled at the development. Fai scooped the little creature up into his arms and allowed it to slip into his hood.

Sakura approached them timidly, her face unhappy. "When are you expecting to be back?"

"Nightfall, if we don't find him," Kurogane said. "I don't want to risk staying out any later than that."

She frowned, and he felt an impulse to pat her on the head, like a child. He restrained himself. Back when he'd been in Tomoyo's service, such gestures of affection had been discouraged, simply because those small comforts could be easily misconstrued by outsiders as something scandalous. They'd had their moments, of course, when they'd first met. But those times were long past. _I still have to get back to her, _he thought, remembering the paneled walls of the castle, the warm smile Tomoyo had always favored him with.

"Kurogane, what are you thinking about?"

He glanced up at his name. A moment later, he frowned, annoyed at the person who'd said it. "Nothing," he answered stiffly.

"Well, we'd best be going then. Mokona, you should stay hidden."

He grabbed Souhi off the table and moved it to his hip. "Don't answer the door," he told the princess. Something like fear flashed across her face, but she controlled it quickly. _She's gotten stronger, too, _he thought, turning. The magician held the door for him, lips twisted in that damn grin of his.

They moved down the elevators in silence. The moment of quiet, so rare in the presence of the magician, allowed Kurogane to think. _Tomoyo said I would get weaker if I killed someone, but by how much? I won't be able to use anything less than lethal force on this guy if he does show up, and none of us are safe until the feather's out of his hands._

The elevator reached the main level. They stepped out and headed across the lobby.

_It doesn't make sense for him to stay here, _Kurogane thought. _He'd try to get to__ Tokyo. What would the price have been to choose his next destination? _He thought about it, eyebrows pulling together. _The witch wouldn't just send me back to Nihon, but that might've been because she knew I needed to be sent off with these people. Unless picking and choosing between dimensions is harder than just traveling at random until you chance across the right one. _He frowned.

"Something wrong, Kurogane?" Fai asked, saying his name like some foreign flower.

The ninja scowled at him. "Of course there's something wrong. Have you been paying attention the past few weeks?"

For just a second, the smile vanished from the vampire's face. It reappeared in a flash, as if it had never left. "So we've got one more potential enemy floating around in this country. It wouldn't be the first time we've faced someone strong like us."

"I'm thinking it doesn't make sense for Seishirou to be here when he knows the vampires he's hunting are in another world. Unless he's got some other reason to stick around."

"Oh, that's smart," Fai said, grinning wider.

"You could at least think of some idea why that is."

The mage shrugged. "We can ask him when we find him."

Mokona piped up just then, poking out of Fai's hooded shirt. "The feather's presence is getting stronger."

"We're headed in the right direction, then," Kurogane surmised.

"So it would seem. Is that a fudge shop?"

Kurogane glanced up, half-surprised and half-annoyed by the mage's observation. "Why does it matter?"

Suddenly, a change came over Fai's face. He lost his smile, and for one second, his eye glowed gold. His fingernails shot out half and inch, barely noticeable compared to the sudden change in eye color. All these changes reversed after a moment, concealed by the mage's normal features. "It doesn't, I guess."

Kurogane frowned, noting the coldness in the mage's voice. It only took him a moment to make the connection. "That's probably where the kid bought that fudge."

Fai was silent.

"He only meant it as a peace offering. Stop being so suspicious."

"Right. I guess so."

Mokona popped out of the mage's shirt, startling both of them. "Mokona just felt the waves from the feather. It's very close."

Kurogane turned, sensing a presence behind him an instant before Seishirou's voice pierced the air. "I suppose you're looking for this," the man said, holding Sakura's feather between his fingertips.

"It's been a long time," Kurogane muttered, drawing his sword. "We never finished our fight in Outo."

"Technically, the country was called Edonis."

The ninja made no response except to raise his sword. Seishirou smiled, not a malicious grin, or a threatening one, but a curious, almost lazy smile. Ignoring the blade pointed at his chest, he turned to Fai. "I don't suppose you'd know where to find Subaru and Kamui, would you?"

"We parted ways in the last world. I'm assuming they left Tokyo looking for some safe place to run."

Seishirou either missed the accusing note in the magician's voice, or chose to ignore it. "No idea at all? Not even now that you've joined their ranks?"

Fai hissed, fingernails shooting out and filing into sharp points.

_Not a smart move, _Kurogane thought, edging between the two of them. "We don't know anything about your targets. All we want is the feather."

"Perhaps we can arrange a trade. You want the feather, and I'm looking for things of interest."

"What kinds of things?"

Seishirou smiled again. "Perhaps we can talk about this over dinner?" he suggested, glancing around the busy sidewalk. A few people had stopped to watch their confrontation, noticing the unsheathed sword in Kurogane's hands. Others continued to move by, not noticing, or perhaps ignoring them.

Kurogane sheathed his sword. "Meet at the Ephemeral Apartments at nightfall," he said shortly. "We'll talk in the lobby." No sense risking either of the brats when the lobby would be private enough. In their seedy building, no one would look twice at a heated conversation.

Fai stiffened a bit at this, but Seishirou merely blinked and widened his smile. "That will do fine. I'll see you then." The younger man retreated, slipping through the overflowing streets with ease. Within seconds, he'd vanished to some place Kurogane couldn't see.

"What was that?" Fai demanded.

"There's no point in taking the extra risk to fight him. If he's willing to make a deal, we'll make a deal. And stop being so fucking angry all the time. That's my job."

Fury flitted across the sorcerer's face, controlled quickly as his gold eye flickered to the place where Seishirou had disappeared. He returned to his normal state, his eye turning sapphire and his fingernails shortening up. "What do you think he wants?"

"We'll find out in a few hours. Let's go." He turned back toward the apartment complex, walking briskly.

_What _does _he want? _the ninja wondered, trying to guess what would interest someone who traveled dimensions. _Traveling that long, he must've seen a lot of things. Why does he assume we've been to a world he hasn't? Unless he's looking for something he knows we have. _He tried to imagine what they owned that could possibly be construed as valuable, or what they could reasonably obtain that he couldn't.

And then it hit him.


	14. Panicked

Chapter Fourteen

When Syaoran heard the door click open, he assumed the others had returned early. He kept his head down in the book he'd found the first day here, a history of Infinity, trying to understand the subtle nuances of the written language. His ears registered the light footsteps moving across the living room floor, and their slow, deliberate pace. The words had started to blur together on the page after an hour of reading, and he found himself focusing more on those footfalls.

His pulse quickened as he realized there was only one set of footsteps moving through the apartment. _Sakura wouldn't just wander around the apartment, would she? _he wondered, lifting his head and pressing an ear to the wall. This amplified the footsteps, allowed him to pick up the less obvious characteristics. _Boots, not shoes. Someone else then. Now they're hitting the carpet. _He winced as a floorboard under the carpet creaked.

_Closer now. They're getting closer. _His pulse pounded in his ears, the loudest sound in the tiny apartment.

The footsteps ceased. Syaoran stopped breathing. Some childish part of his mind was shouting, _Go away, go away, go away._

_I can't fight when I can't even walk, _another part of his mind reasoned. _But I can't stay here either, and they'll hear me if I move._

Horror slithered through him. _They'll hear Sakura. They'll find her before they find me, she's closer to the door._ His whole body trembled as he took a deep breath, and he flinched at the noise it caused.

In the other room, he heard a door swing open. _Not the front door, _he knew at once. A beat later, he heard a startled scream shatter the silence.

Before he could comprehend what was going on, he was running, damaged feet pounding wildly against the floor. Pain climbed up his legs like wildfire.

The startled scream of a moment ago turned to one of fear. Syaoran tore through the living room, almost running into the couch in his haste. "Sakura!"

The scream cut off abruptly. Syaoran's heart sunk, even as he plowed through the half-open door of Sakura's room.

Tears ran down Sakura's cheeks, her face stretched into a mask of terror. A black-sleeved arm was coiled around her waist, pinning her delicate arms to her side where they could do no damage. Another arm had wound around to her neck, where a sharp piece of steel rested precariously over her carotid artery. A line of blood trickled down her collarbone, a shocking contrast to her milk-pale skin.

Syaoran glanced up to see his Seishirou's face above Sakura's. "Drop her," he hissed.

"Oh, I will. We just have to talk first."

Syaoran took a step forward, then froze as Sakura whimpered. His eyes flashed down to the knife, noting the increased flow of blood down her neck. In desperation, he said, "You can keep the feather, just let her go."

"I want to make a deal with you."

He stood silent, waiting.

Seishirou swept on, satisfied that he had the boy's attention. "There's something I need from you, something that will require you to go to other dimensions with me. I can't tell you what it is, but I assure you, it's nothing that will hold up your journey more than a few months."

"I can't leave."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice. I have a price to pay, and I need help. Yours, preferably, but if you'd rather, I can take her along instead." He shifted the knife just slightly, moving it to an undamaged part of Sakura's throat. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

Syaoran shook his head.

Something like irritation passed across Seishirou's face, and his dark eyes flickered to the door, just for a moment.

"Why does it have to be one of us?" Syaoran asked, stalling.

"You both have abilities far beyond the norm for your kind. You have your magic. She can talk to spirits, see fragments of the future. Truthfully, I would take the magician traveling with you if I thought I could contain him. But you'll do."

_Time. I need more time. _"And what would I have to do, if I went with you?"

"Just travel by my side until we reach the world I'm looking for. Then, you'll work a little bit of your magic, and I'll have Yuuko send you back to your friends."

"What kind of magic?"

Annoyance passed across his face. "You'll find out when we get there. Remember, Syaoran, you trusted me once. The book, remember?"

His teeth buried themselves in his lip. "I remember."

"I promise you'll be returned safely after we're done. You know I can do that."

Syaoran looked down at his bandaged feet. "I know."

His old teacher's voice softened a bit. "You'd be better off with me. I've been watching you. You're feeling rejected, lost, alone. You won't have to feel those things with me."

"I'd rather stay here," he said weakly.

"Come now, Syaoran, you must realize they're only keeping you around for convenience. They don't trust you. You don't trust them."

"I trust them."

"You're lying."

"No . . ."

"I'll still allow you to collect feathers for the princess if you come with me."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I take her, and your quest up until now becomes entirely pointless." His eyes flashed to the front door again. Syaoran retreated a step, regaining his teacher's attention. Sakura looked at him, an accusation on her face. He could almost hear the words racing through her mind as she stared at him: _Only a coward would give up someone they care about to spare themselves._

"Come with me now, and I'll let the princess go."

Syaoran glanced toward the door, as if it offered some escape. But Seishirou would catch him before he even made it out into the hall. _I'm not helpless, _he told himself. _I'm not weak. I'm not a coward. _He closed his eyes. "Let me think."

"We don't have time."

_You mean _you _don't have time, _he thought. _The others will come back, they have to come back. The three of us will be able to fend you off. _"Just a second," he whispered, still stalling. _They must be close, if he's so impatient. He keeps looking at the door. _

"You have to be decisive when traveling through dimensions. There's no time to hesitate."

Syaoran heard something outside the door, footsteps moving closer. _Please be them, _he prayed, just as the door flew open.

Seishirou heard the movement and dropped the princess. She landed on her knees, clutching her throat. Before Syaoran could react, his old teacher shot past him, out into the living room. He felt something tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him back. He lifted a hand to his neck, startled by the sudden movement. A stinging pain radiated through his fingers as Seishirou slapped his hand away and pinned it to his side.

His body flailed wildly, eyes roving around the apartment even as a sharp edge pressed against the skin of his neck. He caught sight of Kurogane, ripping Souhi free of its sheath, and Fai, nails turning to claws. The world spun wildly, and for a moment, all he could see was the corner of the room, where the cracked walls met the ceiling. Spots formed in his field of vision, obscuring everything. A pressure settled over his throat, cutting off his air supply and parting the first layer of skin caught under the knife.

"It seems we won't have to meet over dinner, after all," Seishirou said, though Syaoran had no idea what the words meant.

"Put the kid down."

He struggled to breathe despite the arm wrapped around his throat; he couldn't.

"You won't be able to use that sword on me. Unless you _wanted_ to tear him to shreds."

"Bastard . . ." Kurogane muttered.

"Sakura-chan!" Fai yelled, voice shrill with horror.

The name pushed Syaoran's mind into overdrive. _Sakura's hurt. Sakura needs help. _The words repeated over and over, driving his thoughts back into clarity. His vision still swam with black dots, and his arms wouldn't move from his side, but there had to be something he could do. _Sakura's hurt . . . _

Instinct took over, and he did the only thing he could think of. He opened his mouth and drove his teeth deep into Seishirou's hand, an inch from the knife. He heard the blade clatter to the floor as he wriggled free. A hand snatched his hair, trying to pull him back. He ripped free, wincing as Seishirou ripped his hair out by the roots.

Somewhere far away, he heard Kurogane yelling. A flash of white blinded him, filling up the whole room.

The last thing he was conscious of was the dull throb of pain in his legs as he crashed to the floor.


	15. Eavesdropped

Chapter Fifteen

Lines of white light tore through the room, carving deep holes into the couch and leaving the dining table in splinters. Kurogane tensed, waiting for his eyes to adjust after the brilliant flash. Afterimages dotted his vision.

Curtains fluttered in the wind. The window behind them wasn't smashed, but opened wide.

Seishirou was nowhere in sight.

The kid was lying on the floor, not moving.

The princess was doing the same, but also bleeding from her throat.

"Shit," the ninja muttered, sheathing Souhi. "Mage, take care of the princess."

Fai knelt down beside Sakura, turning her over to expose the thin line of red running down her throat. Her jade eyes opened slowly, tears running down the side of her face. She didn't say a word as the mage lifted one clawed hand up to her throat to examine the cut.

Kurogane went over to the boy, crumpled up next to the tattered couch. When he approached, the kid tilted his head up, his face as pale as the flash of white from his sword technique. "Don't move," Kurogane told him, pushing his head back down and turning him so he was facing up.

"Sakura's hurt," he whispered, tilting his face toward the princess.

"Don't move, I said."

"I'm fine."

The kid didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere, but the ninja knew that the most dangerous injuries sometimes didn't show right away. _My fault, _Kurogane thought, gritting his teeth. _He was still in the way when I swung my sword. He could've been killed. _The Hama Ryu-O Jin was meant to slay a monster in a single stroke. Even holding back like he had . . .

"Really, I'm fine. I fell clear of the blast." The kid moved, bracing his arm against the floor and pushing himself into a sitting position.

The ninja stared at him.

"You broke the couch," the boy said with great significance, staring at the cottony bits of fluff sticking out of the top of the couch. Three deep slices marred the top, leaving gouges big enough to fit half a dozen manju buns.

_Fell clear of the blast . . ._ It had been a long time since he'd come that close to killing someone without meaning to. Since the day Tomoyo had met him. _I was half out of my mind then. I have no excuse now. Fuck, that was close._

The kid rolled over and crawled across the carpet, not letting his feet touch the ground as he moved toward the princess. "Is she okay?"

_How can he be handling this so well? I almost killed him. _He wondered if the kid even realized just how close he'd come to dying.

Sakura was sitting up now, dabbing at her bloody neck with a piece of tissue. She wore a vaguely shell-shocked expression, staring off in the distance with a look of distress in her eyes. She turned to the boy, her features shifting just a little bit. When he took her hand, she made the first sound since Seishirou had disappeared: a quiet sob.

The boy said nothing, just holding her hand as if it were some priceless artifact.

_I almost killed that kid, _Kurogane thought, as Fai stepped into the bathroom and returned with some bandages. "Let's get you taken care of, Sakura-chan."

_Fuck, that was close._

* * *

><p>She didn't hate him. As he cradled her hand between his fingers, she came to understand that much. His touch was so gentle, so warm. Too gentle to be an act.<p>

Sakura allowed him to hold her hand while the rest of her body shuddered under her sobs. Her legs curled in, protecting her from the rest of the world even now that the danger was over. Fai had to push her knees out of the way to bandage the cut on her neck.

Syaoran said nothing, just holding her hand as if it was a glass figurine. Now and then, his grip would shift a little, reminding her that he was there, but other than that, she was unaware of his presence.

No, she didn't hate him. But he wasn't _her _Syaoran, and she couldn't respond to him like he was, not even to ask what she was supposed to say to the others. She knew this Syaoran kept secrets, that he knew so much more than he was letting on. She didn't know how much of the confrontation with Seishirou he'd be willing to share.

So she stayed quiet, letting the sobs tear free of her throat. After a while, when it became unreasonable to cry anymore, she told the Fai she wanted to go to bed. The vampire slipped one arm under her knees and the other under her back and carried her like an infant into her room, setting her down on the bed. He draped the top layer of blankets over her. "Don't you worry, Sakura-chan. He won't be back."

She didn't think she had it in her to say anything, so she just nodded and closed her eyes. Fai left, closing the door with a soft click.

Sakura waited until she was sure no one would hear her move, then threw off the blankets and pressed her ear against the wall.

"You sure you're all right, kid?" Kurogane was asking, out in the living room.

"I'm fine," Syaoran answered.

"You were lucky," Fai interrupted, light and casual. _More casual than he's been in weeks, _she thought, trying to guess the reason for the change.

"That, too," Syaoran said, after a brief hesitation.

Sakura heard feet moving across the living room, then the sound of something small being set up against the wall. _Kurogane's sword, maybe?_

"What exactly happened?" the ninja asked. Confusion flashed through her before she realized he must be talking to Syaoran.

"I was in my room. When Seishirou came in, I thought it was one of you, coming back. I didn't realize we were in any danger until Sakura screamed."

The words sounded rehearsed, almost mechanical. Had he been concocting a story the whole time he'd been holding her hand, or was he just that unaffected by the invasion?

"I left my room and found him holding Sakura, with a knife to her throat. He told me he wanted me to travel with him. We fought, and he ended up getting a hold of me, which was about when you came back."

Sakura blinked, pressing her ear tighter to the wall. _What about all that other stuff? What about the price Seishirou's trying to pay, or the fact that he needs your magic? _Her eyebrows came together in a line.

"Why would he want you to travel with him?" Fai asked.

Syaoran must've given some nonverbal reply, because after a moment, Fai spoke again.

"How are we going to deal with this?"

"We've got to kill him," Kurogane said. Sakura winced.

"We don't have the resources," Syaoran responded. "I know I can't fight him. If it were between him and either of you, it'd be an even fight, but with as much as we have to gain from tracking him down, it's not worth the risk."

"I thought we were trying to get the feathers back," Fai said, his voice just a little sharper than before. _Don't fight, _Sakura pleaded in her head. _Please, don't fight._

"We are, but there's no point in dying. My clone was created with the sole purpose of tracking down those feathers; he'd do anything to obtain them, even if it killed him. I'm not that suicidal."

"You agreed to keep looking," Kurogane said, the barest hint of an accusation in his voice.

"I did. And I will. I just think if Seishirou can kill me on a regular day, it might not be a good idea to face him when he's got a feather. At least not until I'm stronger."

"It'll take years of training for you to even stand a chance against him."

"This journey will probably longer than a few years. Given the amount of memories she regains from every feather, plus the health restored to her after each one, there could be anywhere between a few hundred and a thousand feathers scattered throughout all the worlds. Add to that the fact that not every world we visit will have a feather, we have a pretty long road ahead of us."

There was a collective sigh at this, and Sakura sensed this wasn't news to them. _It's news to me,_ she thought. _It shouldn't be. I should've thought about that a long time ago. _She closed her eyes, pointless in the darkness of her room.

"I guess we've got easier targets to choose from," Fai agreed. "We'll likely run into Seishirou again before our travels are over. Kurogane, you'll have enough time to teach him what he needs to know, won't you?"

"As long as we don't end up in my home world anytime soon. It's been long enough. I have to go back."

Silence followed this statement. Several seconds later, she heard the sounds of footsteps shuffling across the living room. "In any case," Syaoran said. "I need to resume training as soon as possible."

"Tomorrow. Tonight, you rest," Kurogane said with a note of finality.

Sakura withdrew her ear from the wall, feeling a bit lightheaded. It was the same sensation she got every time she went a little too long without a feather. The dizzy spells were becoming a lot less frequent now, occurring only once or twice a week. With all the chaos, it shouldn't have surprised her that she would faint tonight, but the suddenness with which she fell back into bed startled her.

Before she could ponder her poor health any more than that, she was asleep.


	16. Unbalanced

Chapter Sixteen

"You're going to learn how to walk on your hands," Kurogane announced as they reached the park. Syaoran nodded, glad he wouldn't have to trudge through a day of training on his healing feet. "Start by bracing yourself against that tree, and try to get as good a handstand as you can."

He went over to the indicated oak and laid down beside it, manipulating his body until it was upside-down against the trunk. The blood rushed down to his head, turning his face red and making his legs sway slightly.

"Careful. Don't fall."

_Since when does Kurogane ever tell anyone to be careful? _Syaoran wondered, moving his legs to get better balance. Several seconds passed as he waited for some sort of instruction.

"This will improve your balance and coordination," Kurogane explained. "It'll also make you more conscious of your surroundings, since you're looking from a skewed perspective. Now try to balance without leaning against the tree."

He tried, the muscles of his back going rigid as he tried to do an unsupported handstand. Not even a second passed before he fell back into the tree trunk. Kurogane winced.

Several minutes passed before he was able to do a halfway-decent handstand, and even then, he didn't dare try to walk on his hands. The ninja watched him try to regain his balance, flinching every time he swayed too far to one side.

"You seem jumpy, today," he noted, almost falling.

Upside-down, it took Syaoran a moment to identify the emotion that flickered across the ninja's face. Trying to understand the thoughts behind it only confused him more.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together.

"No. Nothing." The ninja crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Distracted by the brief conversation, he lost his balance and toppled over, like a stack of blocks pushed over by a child. An arm extended to help him up.

"Thank you . . ." he said, surprised.

"You lose focus too easily. In a proper fight, you have to be conscious of all your surroundings, without ever losing focus on your enemy. This exercise will teach you the basics of paying attention, but you're going to have to fight for real to get better."

He nodded once, and settled back into a handstand.

By the time the first hour was up, he could feel the blotchy bruises forming across his body from the falls. When the Other had trained, he'd come back with cuts and bruises galore, but never a word of complaint. Even after dozens of falls, even after his arms started to tremble and give out beneath him, he told himself he could do the same.

Three hours passed before he made his first successful step with his hands. Using his momentum to propel him into the next, he tumbled forward and landed flat on his back. Slowly, he sat up, ears ringing.

Kurogane waited wordlessly for him to do something. Syaoran stretched out his arms, letting the joints in his wrist crack a little bit to relieve the pressure. Then he moved back into a handstand, looking up at his teacher for approval. After a moment, the ninja nodded.

He trained until his arms couldn't support his weight.

"We're done for the day," Kurogane said, holding out a hand to help him up for the last time. Every muscle in his arms ached. After so many years imprisoned by Fei Wang Reed, his body had grown frail.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah." He took a cautious step forward, noting that the pain in his feet didn't seem so bad compared to the pain in his arms. _Maybe I'm healing fast._

As they walked, Kurogane asked, "How's the shoulder?"

He lifted one hand to the bandages, noting the sore spot. "Not too bad. I think I'll be able to go to the arena again soon."

The ninja tensed, and Syaoran looked up. "Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing you need to worry about."

He frowned, not sure what to say. Usually, their conversations were just the opposite, with him denying any pain he felt.

They reached the apartment complex. Kurogane led him to the elevator. As they moved up through the tower, the ninja sighed. "I'm sorry."

The sentiment was so unexpected, it robbed Syaoran of any reply.

"About last night," Kurogane explained. "I should've waited until I was sure you were out of the blast range. That was ill done." The man's crimson eyes slid over to look at him, waiting for some kind of response.

"I shouldn't have been caught like that in the first place," was all he could think to say.

The ninja's eyes narrowed. Syaoran struggled to understand the thoughts behind that look.

Kurogane shed no light on that subject. "Tomorrow, you'll be practicing how to dodge attacks. It'll give you a sense of your opponent's range so you don't wander into it accidentally." Their elevator hit the floor they were staying on. "Eat, and then get some rest. You'll still be exhausted tomorrow, but you'll get used to it."

"Okay."

They walked to their little apartment. On their way in, Syaoran grabbed a plate of the spaghetti Fai had made. The noodles were cold, and he had to reheat the sauce, but he ate it. Ten minutes later, he was in bed, eyes shut.

After such a long day, one might've expected him to fall asleep instantly. But for a while, he lay awake, worrying.

"_There's something I need from you . . ." _Seishirou had said, and he couldn't deny that, for a moment, he'd considered listening. _" . . . nothing that will impede your journey more than a few months."_

The Other had trusted Seishirou, trusted him to keep his word. For a moment, Syaoran had trusted the man to do the same now as he'd done for the Other in Clow Country. Just for a second, he'd wavered. _I could've left, _he thought, immediately flinching away from the notion. Things were getting better, after all. Fai didn't hate him, or at least didn't act on his hatred. Kurogane trusted him enough to train him all over again. Sakura . . .

_Sakura feels nothing for you, _a small part of his mind said. _You could go missing again tomorrow, and she wouldn't shed a tear._

_No. That's not true._

_You aren't the one she knows. You aren't the one she cares about._

"_I know you're not happy where you are now," _Seishirou had said. _"You're feeling rejected, lost, alone. You won't have to feel those things with me."_

Syaoran pushed the words away, unwilling to face them. _I'm fine here, _he told himself. _And I don't need anyone's approval to stay._

"_You'll never be him, so stop trying."_

He winced at the memory of Sakura's voice, the first thing she'd said to him since their arrival in Infinity. _"You'll never be him, so stop trying." _

_How could she know those words would cut me so deep? I didn't even know until she said them. _He rolled over, wrapping the sheets tight around his torso. _It should be better. At least she's talking to me. She let me hold her hand._

"_Never. I will never love you."_

"It was a dream," he whispered to himself. "That part was just a dream."

_Except that it's true. She will never love you. You will always be the one who took her Syaoran away from her. _His fingers coiled around the sheets, bringing them close to his body.

_Don't think about it, _he told himself. _It shouldn't matter to you, anyway, not when you have everything else in the world to worry about._

His mind finally yielded to the needs of his body. His hands relaxed, and he drifted off, into that state between reality and dreams. For a while, his imagination wandered, drifting between his training, the encounter with Seishirou, the fudge sitting in the fridge, uneaten.

And after a while, he slipped into his dreams and saw visions of the Other.


	17. Dreamed

Chapter Seventeen

Hien lay in shards across the battlefield.

Blood dripped from the Other's shirt, leaving little puddles of crimson wherever he walked. Corpses littered the ground, each laying in scarlet puddles. Flies crawled across the bodies, laying their eggs, though the flesh hadn't started to decay yet.

Syaoran took in the scene from above, heart quickening with horror. The Other glanced up at him, his mismatched eyes empty, merely acknowledging the watching presence. Those eyes turned away, focusing on some far off object.

His clone walked over several dead bodies, trampling them and causing little spurts of blood to rush out of their still hearts. The squishy sound of dead flesh shifting under his clone's weight made Syaoran want to retch.

The Other knelt down beside one of the corpses, a woman with sleek black hair, crusted with blood, and skin as pale as milk. A deep wound in her chest glistened with blood, a stark contrast to her white gown. Syaoran watched, disgusted, as his clone plucked a shining white feather from the woman's hand. The fingers hung at grotesque angles, broken in half a dozen places.

"Please," she whispered, voice hoarse. If Syaoran had possessed a physical body in that moment, he would've recoiled in shock. _She's alive. How can she be alive with those wounds? _"My daughter . . . My daughter needs that feather, she's ill."

The Other paid the woman no heed. Instead, he pulled out the jagged stump that was all that remained of Hien, and impaled the woman through the heart again, getting a cleaner shot this time. The light faded from her dark eyes, and her head fell limp onto the dirt road, splattering the blood beneath her all over her dress.

The Other removed the broken sword from the woman's chest, allowing a small, red river to flow out of her corpse, and examined it. After a moment, he cast the fractured blade away. It clattered against the steel armor of another corpse, then came to rest in a pool of red.

A little shudder went through Syaoran's heart. In that moment, he couldn't say which disturbed him more — the casual abandonment of the sword, or the unnamed bodies lying out in the open. _The bodies, _he decided after a few seconds. _Definitely the bodies. _

The Other held the feather out in front of him, as if in admiration. Then, with a rush of magic—Fai's magic, the magic he'd stolen when he'd eaten the magician's eye—the Other stored the feather inside his body.

_Why? _Syaoran wondered. _Why are you still looking for the feathers? Fei Wang Reed only needed Sakura to travel through the worlds. There's no point in having you collect the feathers on your own._

Dark orbs formed around the Other, wrapping around him like some viscous liquid. Syaoran recognized the effect immediately, and willed his clone to stay in whatever dimension he was in now so they wouldn't have to cross paths anytime soon. A moment later, though, the viscous liquid engulfed him, and the Other moved to the next dimension.

Syaoran woke in his bed, paralyzed. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to come to terms with what he'd just seen. The rest of the apartment was silent, as if no one lived here.

Several minutes passed as the adrenaline faded from his system. Finally, he calmed down enough to move again. He threw off the covers and sat up, feet dangling over the edge of his bed. The red numbers on the clock read four-thirty-one. Too early for him to be awake.

Nevertheless, he sat there, more aware with every passing second. With a soft sigh, he brushed his matted hair back to its normal configuration and got up to go to the bathroom.

Once the most pressing business had been taken care of, he took a good look at himself in the mirror. Dark rings circled his eyes, the product of such a startling awakening. He lifted a finger to touch the soft flesh around his eyes, then sighed.

Perhaps the dark rings stood out because the rest of his face was so pale. The shock of what his clone had done had left his face as white as his sheets. _As white as that woman's face, _he thought, wincing as he recalled the way the light had faded from her eyes. _No, don't be stupid. There's no point in thinking about it. She's dead, and there's nothing you can do about it except kill the Other next time you cross paths. _He doubted he'd be able to do even that much, given how his clone had thrashed him back in Tokyo, besting him even with a broken arm.

Syaoran sat down on the floor, leaning heavily against the wooden cupboards of the bathroom. The bright lights and benign surroundings eventually drove the bleak thoughts out of his mind.

_It's time to change the bandages, _he thought, peeling the first layer of gauze away from his shoulder. After the two days he'd been wandering around blindfolded, the wound had looked puffy and discolored. He was glad to see, as he unwound the bandages, that the infection had yielded to first-aid and a decent immune system. _Things are looking up._

He cleaned away what little remained of the blood, and wrapped fresh gauze around his shoulder. His arms were stiff from yesterday's training, which complicated his attempts at first-aid, but eventually, he finished wrapping his shoulder. "A few more days," he murmured to himself. "And I'll be ready to fight."

As long as he was caring for his shoulder, he decided to take a moment to examine the less severe wounds on his feet. These had healed rather quickly, and now only a few lesions remained to display the suffering he'd endured. He dabbed at those with some antiseptic, wincing as it fizzed against his skin. By the time he'd finished rewrapping his feet, it was past five. _Almost a reasonable hour to be awake, _he thought.

He headed back to his room and curled up in bed, hoping to catch another hour or two of sleep.

He didn't.

After an hour passed, he decided his mind was too busy to allow him the luxury of sleep. His thoughts wandered in circles, pondering the same problems that had kept him up last night: Seishirou, the Other, the next game of human chess at Infinity's arena. _Kurogane said I'd have to fight to get better, _he thought, trying to quell the unease churning in his stomach.

After an hour and a half of unsuccessful resting, he got up again and walked out to the living room to find something to eat. He opened the refrigerator, looking for milk for his cereal. His eyes fell across the square of mint fudge he'd brought back a few days ago. A fourth of it had been hacked off and, presumably, eaten. _Someone's accepted the peace offering, _he thought, lips stretching into a smile. The expression felt odd on his face somehow, as if his muscles had forgotten how to smile, and were stretching into that position for the first time. He realized that was exactly what was happening.

_That's the first time I've smiled in years, _he thought, lifting one hand to probe at the upturned corners of his lips. The thought made him smile wider.

A few minutes later, he was pouring milk over a bowl of crunchy, chocolate-flavored cereal, still smiling. His face was starting to hurt, muscles unused to the strain, but he couldn't seem to stop grinning.

Sakura's door swung open just then. Without thinking about it, he swung around and said, "Good morning, Princess."

She stared at him for a moment, an unfathomable expression on her face. Very quietly, she said, "Good morning."

Her less enthusiastic reply made him lose his smile. He bent his head down to his bowl and continued eating.

It seemed that as soon as one of his companions woke, the others surfaced. Within five minutes, Fai slipped out of his room, moving in a way that could only be labeled as _dance_-_like_. Kurogane woke last, rubbing his forehead groggily. The ninja swept past him, then dug some food out of the refrigerator.

"What are you doing up so early?" the ninja asked gruffly, biting into the sandwich he'd retrieved from the fridge.

He shrugged, not wanting to confess to the nightmares, the terror he'd felt at the mere sight of his clone.

_It's nothing I can explain without telling them everything else, _he thought. _And I can't tell them much more than I already have without making it seem like I've been withholding important information. _He shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, surprised at how hungry he was. He'd have to start eating lunch in addition to breakfast and dinner.

"Ready to go?" Kurogane asked as he downed the last spoonful of cereal. He nodded, then tilted the bowl up to his lips to drink the chocolate-laced milk.

The ninja grabbed Souhi and moved the sword to his hip. He actually looked more natural with the weapon there than he did when it was set aside somewhere. They walked out the door and down the hall.

When they reached the elevator, Kurogane said, "So, what's the real reason you were up?"

Syaoran panicked. "I just . . . couldn't sleep. That's all."

"Are you worried about Seishirou coming back?"

His body relaxed at the question. At least his mentor didn't suspect him of still having contact with his clone. He didn't have a choice, of course, but the implications were bad enough. "Seishirou might come back, and that would give us another opportunity to tie up loose ends, but . . ."

"I'll kill him next time I see him. He won't live long enough to hurt you."

Syaoran winced, but said nothing.

"Does that bother you?"

"Seishirou-san taught me a lot. Taught the Other, I mean. And me, too, I suppose. But you're right. We've got to kill him next time we see him. We have to get the feather back."

They reached the main floor. Kurogane rested a hand on his shoulder. "You're a lot more like the other kid than I thought."

He flinched, images of bloody corpses flitting through his mind.

"Not the monster he's turned into now," Kurogane went on. The words brought a torrent of relief down on Syaoran. "I mean the kid who asked me to train him in Outo."

"Thanks," he whispered as they walked out into the glaring sunshine outside.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_Well, the corpse-filled scene at the beginning probably wasn't enough to merit a mature rating all on its own, but I think it's a step in the right direction. More violence ahead, so stay tuned._


	18. Snapped

Chapter Eighteen

"Your reaction time is still too slow," Kurogane said, swinging Souhi in a wide arc. Syaoran threw himself to the ground to avoid getting his throat sliced open. "What will you do when your opponent is actually trying to kill you?"

_I think you're already trying, _he wanted to say, but feeling the tip of the ninja's sword at his throat stole his reply. His body went still, eyelids slamming shut as if closing off his senses would save him in a real fight.

"If you're going to learn how to fight, you have to learn how to avoid getting killed." The tip of the sword pressed deeper into his skin. A small trickle of blood to ran down his neck, to his collarbone.

Kurogane withdrew the blade, allowing him to breathe. He wiped the blood from his throat, hand shaking.

"We've been at this for five hours," the ninja said. "You giving up yet?"

That was the third time he'd asked. The question seemed more like a challenge than an expression of concern. "Not yet."

Kurogane lifted Souhi and brought it down. Syaoran slipped out of the way, following the sword's path with his eyes even after he was out of striking range. He saw the way his teacher's wrist twisted and threw himself back, dodging the next blow.

"Good," the ninja said. Syaoran flung himself back, sensing another change in direction. This time, he narrowly avoided losing a hand. "Good."

This went on, as it had for the past five hours, with varied amounts of success. Sometimes, he would be able to avoid a dozen successive strikes before getting cut or knocked down. The rest of the time, he had sporadic bursts of two or three successful dodges, and then the blade would make contact. Someone might've dumped a bucket of red paint for as much blood that had soaked into his clothes.

The blood loss was starting to affect his focus. This allowed his teacher to carve a deep gash into his palm. Syaoran pulled back, clutching the wound to stanch the bleeding.

"We're done for the day," Kurogane said abruptly.

"I can still fight."

"We're _done. _You look like someone splattered you with red paint. We're going back."

He sighed, surprised at how closely the ninja's words echoed his own thoughts. _Though, how else could one describe that? _he thought. _It's more like brown paint, though, now that it's drying. _

People stared at them as they walked through the street, taking in his ripped clothes and blood-spattered body with horror. They moved quickly to the apartment complex.

"Don't touch anything. You're already dripping enough blood as it is."

"Right." They walked inside and went over to the elevator. They ascended without a word, then abandoned the elevator for the last stretch of their journey home. Kurogane held the door open for him, so he wouldn't get blood on the handle.

"What happened?" Fai asked, his eye widening.

"I'm fine," he assured the vampire.

"Training," Kurogane answered. "Did you buy more bandages, like I told you to?"

"Yeah, but . . ." The magician frowned, an unnatural expression on his face.

Kurogane returned with a new roll of bandages and a brown bottle of antiseptic. He handed Syaoran several cotton balls soaked with the fizzing fluid and told him to start taking care of the cuts on his arms. Syaoran ran the moist bits of fluff across the lacerations, wincing as the fizzing liquid sank into his wounds. While he worked on those, his teacher set to work on his legs. Those weren't quite so cut up, but some of the slices were deeper there.

"I was just about to start dinner," Fai said. "Is there anything in particular you want?"

Kurogane shrugged. Syaoran did the same, not wanting to upset the fragile tolerance he'd built up with the magician. They might all be speaking to him, but that didn't mean he was one of them.

"I guess I'll make pancakes again."

"Breakfast for dinner? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh, Kurogane, don't you like my food?"

The ninja grumbled something unintelligible. Syaoran finished wiping the fizzing liquid over his arms and went to work bandaging the cuts. By the time it was done, he had a sleeve of gauze over both his arms. "I think I'll be ready to fight again by tomorrow evening," he decided, stretching.

His mentor lifted his crimson eyes for a moment, then continued wrapping bandages around his legs, not saying a word.

The pancakes didn't take long. Syaoran walked over to the table, noting for the first time that the pain in his feet had all but subsided.

Sakura joined them at the table right as Fai set down a tower of pancakes. Her expression was subdued, and any cheer she might've felt for the food was flattened by her apparent depression.

Syaoran wanted to ask her what was wrong. He wanted that more than anything in the world. _"You'll never be him, so stop trying," _she'd said.

_It's not my place, _he thought. _And everybody knows it._

Dinner passed the same way it had since his disastrous encounter with Seishirou: mildly awkward with a side of depression.

_She didn't even ask about the bandages, _he thought, as he rose from his seat. _She would've asked the Other, if he'd been hurt, but not me. _Jealousy stirred in his heart, poisoning the air around him. It wasn't that he _wanted _to be the Other, especially not when he knew his clone was out there murdering people. But he wanted to be treated the way the Other had been treated, wanted Sakura to talk to him without reservation, wanted Fai to tell him to relax a little.

_But that won't happen. _He pushed the door handle down and walked into his room, dreading the nightmares.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure it's wise to work him like this?" Fai asked, as the boy's door clicked shut.<p>

"The kid wants to start fighting in the arenas again. He'll need to be ready for that. Besides, the more he learns now, the less likely he is to get killed in a real fight."

Fai looked down at the plate he'd been rinsing, troubled. _I suppose he's right. It's better for Syaoran-kun to learn now than to lose everything later. But even so . . ._ He thought of the lacerations, the brown blood crusted all over the boy's clothes. "Won't you push him too far?" he murmured, almost to himself.

"Like I said, the kid wanted this. Besides, we don't have time to wait. I'm taking him out again tomorrow, and then I'm going to set up another battle at the arena."

Fai realized he'd been rinsing the same plate for almost a minute. He shut off the water and toweled off the pristine piece of porcelain.

Kurogane spoke again. "There are going to be times in our journey where he won't be able to handle whatever's going on around us. The more prepared he is, the less often that'll happen, and the more likely we all are to survive. And there's still the princess's feathers to consider."

"Mokona said there was one in this world. Do you think that was the one Seishirou carried, or another one?"

"Could be either. I don't know what that cocky bastard wants, but I doubt he'd leave Infinity until he got it. We might not be able to avoid him long enough to reach the next world."

Fai nodded. "That would be a problem."

"That's not even the part I'm most worried about."

_Of course not. _"What _are _you most worried about?"

"The kid said Seishirou wanted to travel with him. That's _all _he said. It doesn't make sense for him to ask for that without giving an explanation, which makes me wonder if the kid is telling us everything."

_It wouldn't be the first time he's held back. _Fai thought, fingers tightening. _Of _course_ he's keeping things from us, otherwise he would've told us a little more about who we're dealing with._

He frowned a little at the venom in his thoughts. He'd never considered himself a vengeful person, but there was something about the boy, something besides the way he withheld information, that made him . . . uneasy.

Fai finished drying the plate and put it in the cupboard. "That occurred to me," he said, in response to the ninja's statement.

"And? Do you think Seishirou didn't have time to explain, or do you think the kid's holding back?" The last was said in a bare whisper, too quiet to be overheard through the walls.

"I think he's holding back," Fai said simply. _I can be honest about this one thing, _he thought_. __Even if I have a good reason not to be serious about anything else._

He could tell from the way the ninja tensed that this wasn't the answer he'd been looking for.

"And if he is?"

"He won't admit to it. He's too scared of Seishirou to tell us what happened, and he's too scared of us to admit to lying about Seishirou." _Maybe if you didn't treat him like this, he wouldn't feel the need to keep things from you, _his mind snapped at him. Keeping his expression empty, he said, "This is all based on the assumption that he's lying, of course, but he hasn't been very forthcoming with details to begin with, so why would he start now?"

"Don't use that tone on me," the ninja growled. "It's bad enough he thinks we all want him dead."

The accusation - the implication that it was _his_ fault the kid had a guilt-complex - pushed him over the edge. Courtesy was like a thin cable, always stretched to maximum tension, and sometimes, that cable snapped without warning, leaving the frayed threads of brutal honesty exposed. Fai turned, almost breaking the last of the plates as he set it down on the counter. "I do want him dead. Him and his clone both."

Shock crossed the dark-haired man's face. He didn't say anything, only stared as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard.

Fai exhaled, feeling the sudden release of tension that came with the words. _You're a monster, _part of his mind said. The other part swept on, heedless of his self-inflicted guilt trip."Does that surprise you? Can't you understand that, after everything he and his clone have done to me, after stealing my magic, turning me into a monster . . . Can't you understand why I'd want him dead?"

Kurogane blinked twice, his mouth falling open a little. Fai couldn't recall ever seeing the red-eyed man looking quite so shocked. _Well, that _was_ rather shocking._

So they stood in silence, watching each other, waiting for the other to move. Before either of them could, Syaoran's door swung open and he walked out, glancing at them in that timid way he did whenever he entered the room. Fai closed his eyes and turned his head away, the muscles in his stomach bunching up in mortification. _He heard. Oh, god, he heard everything, didn't he?_

Syaoran shambled through the living room, rubbing his eyes. After his initial glance, he paid them no mind. He didn't seem to realize how silent the room had become since his arrival.

Kurogane thawed out after a moment. "What are you doing up? You should've been asleep hours ago."

"I was thirsty," Syaoran said, filling a glass with orange juice from the fridge. Dark circles around his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep; he'd almost certainly been up this whole time.

_Did he hear what I said? _Fai wondered, wrapping his arms around his ribs as if that could somehow contain the cold feeling seeping out of his heart.

Syaoran gave no indication he'd heard any of it. He merely took the glass of juice back to his room and locked the door behind him.

Silence took over the small living room once again. Kurogane stalked over to their shared bedroom and picked something up off the floor. When the ninja threw the black bag to him, Fai lifted his hands and caught it. _My stuff, _he thought, surprised.

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight," Kurogane said, half-slamming the door as he left Fai standing there, alone.


	19. Repeated

Chapter Nineteen

"_I do want him dead. Him and his clone both."_

The words echoed around in his head, solidifying themselves in his memory. Tendrils of rage coiled around his stomach.

Yet he had not _acted_ on his anger. He'd strolled through the living room as if he had every right to interrupt. The worst part of the rage had come later, as his sleep-deprived mind stewed over the tainted words.

"_. . . want him dead . . ."_

He crossed his arms in front of him, curling up to keep warm. Cheap apartments had drafty bedrooms, and living on the outer edge of the building allowed the morning chill to seep in through the walls.

Syaoran wished once again for his mind to quiet long enough for him to rest. The few times he'd fallen asleep, dreams of the Other had driven him back into awareness. Though there was nothing horrible to see tonight, the mere thought of watching his clone made him wish he didn't have to dream. He'd managed two hours of sleep at most, almost nothing next to what he should be getting to stay sharp and attentive throughout his training.

A patch of sunlight peeked in from his window, shining against the door. _It'll be time to get up soon, _he thought wearily. Not half a minute later, someone knocked on his door.

"It's time to eat," Kurogane said, sounding annoyed.

Syaoran contemplated feigning sleep a few moments longer, then sighed and sat up. "Coming."

He dressed as quickly as he could, then shuffled out to the living room, where Fai was setting down a plate of crescent-shaped pastries.

None of them looked at him as he entered. He wasn't sure whether to take that as an omen, or if he should feel relieved. He sat down, ignoring the dazed feeling in his head. The sensation seemed similar to being drunk, at least from what he knew of the Other's memories.

Breakfast was the quiet event it always was. The sheer normalcy seemed out of place after all he'd overheard last night, but he didn't dare speak of it. A fragile peace existed at this table; regardless of what had happened the previous night, this was neutral ground.

"Ready to go?" Kurogane said as he finished eating. He looked a bit tired, too. _He stayed up later than usual, _Syaoran thought, feeling suddenly grateful that the ninja was allowing him to keep secrets.

"Yeah."

The ninja dropped his plate in the sink and walked over to the door, moving as if he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. Syaoran thought about asking him what he was thinking about, then decided there would be no point.

"_. . . makes me wonder if the kid is telling us everything."_

_They don't really trust you, _part of his mind said. The thought wove threads of doubt through his heart. _Fai wants you dead, and that's no surprise, but no one trustsyou to tell the truth._

_Why should they? _he countered, almost angrily. _They're right. I've kept things from them. They have every right to be suspicious. _

They reached the elevator. Kurogane pressed the appropriate buttons, and they descended in silence.

The walk to the park was the same as always. The ninja told him to practice walking on his hands again, which was a relief, given how many bandages he still wore from yesterday's training. By the time the sun went down, he could walk almost halfway across the park without falling.

"We've got to stop by the arena on our way," Kurogane said, looking up at the darkened sky. "If you're ready to go back."

"I can fight." _Besides, we need the money to pay the rent._

They started walking toward the massive dome. This part of the city overflowed with people: competitive warriors sizing up their opponents, young children toting around hotdogs half the length of their arms, bettors handing wads of money to arena employees. _For such an advanced city, they sure do love to fight, _Syaoran thought. Clow Country hadn't had any such traditions. The closest Clow came to these violent battles were sports played at annual festivals. _Maybe it's a leftover from the society they came from, _Syaoran thought, drawing on what he knew of history to understand this world as it was.

"What are you thinking?" Kurogane asked, out of nowhere.

"I was just wondering what kind of tradition these battles were founded on. It seems like a world with such impressive technology and architecture would've sacrificed fighting for cooperation, but . . . Who can say? It might be some vestige of the society that came before theirs. Why?"

A pair of red eyes scrutinized his face for a moment. "I didn't know you were interested in history."

For a moment, the remark confused him. Of _course _he was interested in history. He'd shown them that dozens of . . .

_Oh, _he thought, eyes falling to his feet. _I guess that wasn't me, was it?_ He frowned.

They walked past the tourist section, and moved across a benign-looking waiting room. Kurogane walked up to the reception desk and requested the next open slot in the tournaments. After a few moments, the woman behind the counter handed him a ticket with their scheduled fight and a yellow sheet of paper. "All participants must sign a waiver before entering the pit."

The ninja filled out the form, writing in the blanks with ease.

_The language here must be very similar to the one he learned in his home country, _Syaoran thought, watching with interest. He understood the words well enough, but he didn't know if he'd be able to write things in this language with such ease. _The Other learned dozens of languages, but he knew the language of Clow best of all. And because of that, so do I. _

"We're done here," Kurogane said. Syaoran walked over to his side without a word. They started toward the Ephemeral Apartments. "We'll take it easy tomorrow, so you don't hurt yourself before the fight."

"Thank you."

The ninja looked at him as if his reply had been strange somehow. The red-eyed man said nothing, but his face turned thoughtful after a moment.

_It's strange, _he thought. _In the beginning, it seemed like he'd be the hardest to get along with, but now . . . Even though he knows I'm keeping secrets, he's the only one who gives a damn about what happens to me. _

His thoughts flashed to Fai and Sakura, their words echoing in his ears for the hundredth time today.

"_You'll never be him, so stop trying."_

"_I do want him dead. Him and his clone both."_

Syaoran shivered. _If they were just angry, things should've started to cool down by now, but . . . Why isn't it getting any easier? At least I should be _used _to the way they treat me._

The trip to the battle dome added several minutes to their trip, just long enough for Syaoran to feel the brisk autumn air seeping through his clothes. The cold was easy to ignore during training, when he was exerting himself. Without that, though, the chill in the air was more noticeable. _It'll be winter here, soon. I wonder if we'll be gone by the time it snows._

He hoped so. Even before Sakura had lost her feathers, he'd been restless, compelled to travel and explore.

_No, _he corrected himself. _The Other liked to travel, not you. _

Some small part of his mind responded to that. _Would it be so terrible to have something in common with the Other? Sharing so many years of memory . . ._

"_You'll never be him, so stop trying."_

"Kid?"

The voice broke his reverie. "Huh?"

Kurogane rolled his eyes, sighing. "Quit staring off into space. It makes you look like a stray dog."

"Sorry," he said. His teacher sighed.

"You're a strange kid."

"I'm sorry."

As they walked, Syaoran was surprised to realize they were headed in the wrong direction. His apprehension must've been apparent, because Kurogane chose exactly that moment to explain. "We're going to try blindfolding you again. We're not nearly as far off as last time, so you'll be well within the manju bun's range." The ninja handed him the piece of black cloth. Syaoran stared at it a moment longer, his heart sinking a little.

Kurogane was going on, so he swallowed his reply and tried to come to terms with the fact that this particular exercise had never turned out well for him. "If Seishirou finds you, take off the blindfold and run. If morning comes and you're still not back, I'll come looking for you. Otherwise, everything is the same as it was in Outo."

Hands shaking a little bit, he wrapped the piece of cloth over his eyes. As soon as he was blinded, everyone and everything seemed to disappear from existence. A moment ago, his mentor had been within sight, easy to get to in the event of a catastrophe. Suddenly, that reassurance was gone.

_Let's see if I can make it back in time to get some sleep, _he thought, trying to quell the nausea swirling around in his stomach. He started walking.


	20. Regretted

Chapter Twenty

This time, Kurogane waited until the kid came back before allowing himself to fall asleep. With Seishirou wandering around Infinity, even the simple training exercises carried risks. _We don't have time to ease up, though, _the ninja thought. _He'll have to face that bastard one day, and he might not have me to back him up. _

With those thoughts in mind, he busied himself with menial tasks around the apartment. Cleaning had never been part of his daily routine until Princess Tomoyo had sent him on this journey, and even then, the mage had done most of the housework during their travels. He'd often heard people complaining about household chores, so it surprised him to find scrubbing of countertops soothing.

The mage busied himself sewing up the holes in the couch. Kurogane remembered the white blades of his sword blast carving deep gouges into the furniture. Though they'd picked the cottony bits off the floor, no one had gotten around to actually _fixing_ anything until now. "Kurogane, should I use plain black stitching for this, or should I run to the market and get something that matches the couch?"

"What the hell do I care?" he demanded, as cleaning countertops lost all relaxing attributes.

"Black thread would look strange on such a light couch, but I don't know where we'd find the right color."

"Use the black, then."

The mage examined the spool of black thread doubtfully, then started unwinding it. Kurogane returned his attention to the grease spot that had been bugging him for the past five minutes.

"I'm surprised you're so engrossed in cleaning," the mage said, wrapping his lips around the end of the string, then threading it through the eye of a needle. "Is it because you're worried about Syaoran-kun?"

Hearing the magician say the boy's name so casually after last night irked him. The washcloth in his hand squeaked as it moved across the counter.

"You're pressing too hard. You should try moving the cloth in circles."

Kurogane turned. "Why the hell did you have to go and say that?"

Confusion swept across the blond man's features. "I'm just trying to give you some friendly advice."

"No, what you said last night. Why the hell did you have to say that about the kid?"

For a moment, the magician's eye glowed gold. He looked down. "He didn't overhear."

"How would you know?"

"He didn't say anything."

"In Tokyo, I told you to figure out where you stand. Either you hate him, or you don't. Stop saying shit like that and pretending to be sorry afterwards."

The magician smiled, but his grin held no warmth. "You must be used to hating me by now, huh?

Kurogane sighed heavily, throwing the washcloth down on the kitchen counter. "I don't care if you hate him. I don't care if you want him dead. All I care about is getting back to my home world, and that'll be a lot easier if I don't have you working against me every second of the day."

Fai glanced up suddenly, head turned toward the princess's room. Sakura peeked out from the doorway, looking troubled. "Ah! Sakura-chan, it's wonderful to see you again. Is your leg troubling you?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't hurt so much anymore. I'm getting used to the leg brace."

"That's great."

There was a pause. "Fai-san . . ." she said, after a few seconds had ticked by. "Do you really hate Syaoran-kun?"

Kurogane watched half a dozen emotions flit across the magician's face before he settled on a pained smile. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"It's just . . . when Seishirou showed up the other day . . ." she trailed off, seeming unaware of her suddenly attentive audience. "If Syaoran-kun hadn't been there, things might have gone a lot worse than they did, so . . . even if he's not the same, I was still glad he was here."

Fai's features softened a bit. _That's genuine remorse, _Kurogane thought. _He can't bring himself to like the boy, but he cares about the princess more than anyone besides . . . No, I suppose the kid traveling with us now doesn't feel the same way as the one before. _

"It's true things might've turned out differently if he hadn't been here," Fai allowed. "But he might not have come here at all if Syaoran-kun had been elsewhere."

Sakura thought about this for a moment, withdrawing into herself. "Seishirou didn't come here just looking for Syaoran-kun."

A grave silence pressed down on all of them, until Kurogane broke it. "What else was he looking for?"

"Seishirou said he needed someone with magic. We know Syaoran has the magic he used in Tokyo, when he was fighting . . ." She broke off for a minute, a little flash of pain shooting across her face. "But Seishirou also knew about my magic, and yours, Fai-san. He said that if Syaoran wouldn't go with him, my magic would serve just as well."

"Don't you worry about a thing, Sakura-chan. Kurogane and I are watching out for you."

"That's not what I'm saying!" she almost yelled, taking a step forward and wincing as her crippled leg came down hard on the floor. Heedless of the pain, she swept on. "It wasn't Syaoran-kun's fault Seishirou came here. None of this is his fault, so . . . please, stop talking about him like it is."

"Sakura-chan . . ."

_So she finally found the guts to speak up,_ Kurogane thought, crossing his arms out in front of him. Before anyone could say anything else, the door swung open. The ninja turned, expecting the kid.

It wasn't.

* * *

><p>His face slammed into the ground as the grass tangled around his ankles. Syaoran sat up, feeling the trail of warmth running down the front of his face. "Ow."<p>

Kneeling down like he was, the top of the grass was level with his waist. If he recalled correctly, the only place within Mokona's range to have grass this overgrown was the park where he did his training. _I'm closer than I thought._

He wiped the blood from his chin, then stood, trying to orient himself. The tall grass was mostly on the eastern edge of the park, he knew. He walked until he hit the more solid sidewalk, then turned in the direction of the apartment complex. He was almost positive he'd be able to recognize the massive building, especially now that he paying more attention to his other senses.

The wail of a siren pierced the air, a familiar sound after several weeks in the city. Syaoran tuned it out, more focused on the textures of the buildings he passed. The Ephemeral Apartments were one of the few brick structures left in this part of the city, a factor that, along with the chipped paint of the wood-framed windows, added to its overall cheapness and lack of tenants. He'd know it when he reached it.

The sirens grew suddenly louder, turning onto the street he was walking beside. _Sounds like a fire truck, _he thought, continuing to move forward with the cautious walk of a blind man. The air was warmer than it had been earlier, the bite of autumn absent despite the late hour. Perhaps a warm front had pushed its way through the seasonal air to lend the city some warmth.

The sirens were so loud now that he was having trouble hearing the other sounds around him. The first of the fire engines passed by, the movement warping the sound for just a moment. Another followed close behind, squealing just as loudly. Underneath this cacophony, Syaoran could hear sounds of panic: crying children, distressed women, shouting strangers. And beneath that, another sound, like the static on a television, but slower and less predictable.

Syaoran stopped, taking in these sensations. The warm air around him had taken on a stuffy edge, like the heat coming out of an open oven. The heat was not quite so alarming as the smell.

_Like ashes, _he thought, disquieted. _It smells like ashes._

Kurogane had said only to take the blindfold off if he ran into Seishirou, but there was no way he could've predicted this kind of disaster. Syaoran tore the piece of black fabric away from his eyes and squinted at the brilliant orange light coming off the side of the building. The clouds of orange roiled and twisted, throwing off opaque plumes of smoke every second or so. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins, overtaking everything.

Racing down the sidewalk, tugging along her young child, a woman opened her mouth to wail out the truth that was just occurring to him. "The apartments are on fire!"


	21. Burned

Chapter Twenty-One

"You have to get out of here!" the janitor shouted from the doorway, eyes wide with panic. "The building's on fire!"

There was a moment where none of them moved, each rooted where they stood. Kurogane broke free of the spell first, as the panicked man fled from their doorway to warn the next tenant. "We have to take the stairs. Where's the manju bun?"

"Here," Mokona announced, popping out of Fai's shirt. The magician glanced down in surprise. _When did you crawl into my shirt? _he wondered. He didn't have any time to think about it, though, as the words sunk in. _Fire. The building's on fire._

"Come on, Sakura-chan," Fai said, keeping his voice remarkably calm. That was one thing he'd learned in his travels: to remain stoic and unaffected even in stressful situations. He took hold of the princess's hand, towing her across the apartment like a mother dragging a toddler down the sidewalk. After a few paces, her legs started to work, and she started running without guidance, limping only slightly on her crippled leg.

Smoke rose in black clouds from the stairwell. "Shit," Kurogane muttered. "We have to find another way out."

"There's a fire escape at the end of the hall," Sakura said suddenly, staring at the wall as if the watercolor patterns fascinated her somehow. The three of them raced down the hallway, alerting other terrified tenants as they passed. A chain of people trailed behind them as they reached the end of the hall. "To the left," Sakura said, turning. Her jaw was set with determination.

They turned and passed through an empty antechamber connecting the fire escape to the rest of the building. Kurogane shoved the door open and held it for them. When he looked back into the hallway, orange flames reflected in his pupils. "Go," he told them. "Head down. I'll find you in a few minutes."

"You're staying?" Sakura asked, her eyes going wide.

"Go!"

Fai took hold of her arm again and tugged her toward the metal stairs. "Let's go, Sakura-chan. Kurogane will be just fine."

Sakura cast one final glance toward the ninja, then turned and started running down the stairs with the rest of the tenants. This time, Fai kept hold of her arm, not wanting to risk having her fall with her leg as it was. They descended rapidly, pushed along by the line of fleeing citizens. Fai glanced up once, a flash of light catching his eye, and saw the tongues of flame peeking out through the door. People continued to pile out, moving rapidly in their panic. Their fast motions made Kurogane's stillness stand out even more.

_Is he suicidal? _Fai wondered, hesitating on the next step. Sakura continued ahead, only to be jerked back by his grasping hand. "Fai-san?"

"He's trying to save everyone," Fai whispered, watching the firelight play across the ninja's dark skin. A deep dread took hold of him.

Later, he would think of a perfectly good reason why he ran back up the stairs. He would tell the others that he'd rescued Kurogane because, without the ninja's blood, he would starve and die. But he wasn't thinking about that now, as he released Sakura's hand and gave her one last order to run.

_Even if I never forgive him for making me a vampire . . . even if he grows to resent me . . . I can't watch him die._

He raced up the steps, against the flow of traffic. People pushed passed him, heedless. Far above him, the monstrous flames rose up, making the ninja shy away from the door. People still staggered out of the building, some injured, some still afire.

_What are you doing? _Fai thought, shoving past a sobbing woman and almost losing his footing on the steps. _It's time to go. _

"Let the door go, you're going to burn!"

"I told you to go," the ninja said, his voice perfectly level. "I'll make it down."

"You have to go _now_."

"There are still people inside."

"Who the fuck cares?" he demanded, hoping the swearword would jar the ninja out of his insane plan. Surprise flitted across the man's face, but he didn't move from the door. A few feet away, two dark-haired children ran out of the building. Kurogane threw a quick glance into the flames, now taking up the antechamber between the fire escape from the rest of the floor, then released the door.

"Now we can go," he said, as calm as if he'd merely been holding the door for a passerby. He came down the stairs, moving swiftly, but not in a panic, like the people before him.

Fai followed, breathing hard. "Was that really the time to be risking your life?"

"What better time than during a disaster?" the ninja asked, wearing the amused grin he usually got right before a fight.

Fai tried to remember the last time he'd been the serious one. He couldn't. "You're insane."

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

><p>It was strange how, even though he had no right to care about her, Syaoran's thoughts went straight to Princess Sakura.<p>

_Fire in the apartment complex. Fire everywhere, coming out of the windows like hands reaching for the sky. _People raced down the street, running away from the inferno as he ran toward it. The heat coming off the building felt like the heat coming off the asphalt on an August afternoon. It ravaged one side of his body as he ran alongside it, almost hot enough to make his skin blister.

It didn't matter. He had to get there, he had to be sure _she _was safe. "Sakura!" he yelled, not caring in that moment how she would react to his presence. He had to find her. "Sakura!"

If there was any answer, he wouldn't have been able to hear it over the sirens. He found a safe place to cross the street, then moved closer to the building. The whole thing burned like a torch, flames flying free of the wooden windows. Crowds of people rushed down the fire escapes. Syaoran scanned the shifting masses, looking for any sign of her. Near the top of one stairwell, he caught sight of Kurogane and Fai. When he didn't see the princess with them, his heart sank.

_Oh, god, what if she's trapped inside? What if she's already . . . Oh, god . . . _His vision blurred for a second, then cleared again as he blinked. The glaring lights of the fire left afterimages, obscuring his vision as he looked for her. The seething crowds moved too quickly for him to identify any one face, and with all the chaos, shouting did little good. He yelled anyway. "Sakura! Sakura, where are you?"

The only answer was the wail of sirens, the sinister crackle of fire. Syaoran turned around in a circle, still looking.

_She could be burning right now . . . _Images of Sakura, trapped under a fallen support beam, her skin falling free of the bone as the heat melted it away, the shrill cry she would undoubtedly let out as her flesh was razed to ash. A wave of nausea hit him, and he doubled over, almost puking right where he stood. _Oh, god . . ._

He turned again, disoriented now. In all the panic, he almost missed the single, still figure standing across the street from him. When he did, though, it felt like someone had run a sword through his chest.

Seishirou's glass eye caught and reflected the flames. His expression, if anything, was amused.

Syaoran had lost sight of Fai and Kurogane. He ran up to Seishirou, half-mad with fear and anger. Two cars came within inches of hitting him as he sprinted across the street. He managed to avoid them, or they him, he wasn't sure which. As soon as he hit the curb on the opposite side of the street, he leapt toward his old teacher and tackled him to the ground. "What did you do?" he demanded. "What the hell did you do?"

Seishirou smiled lazily. "I set the building on fire."

The blunt confession left him speechless.

"I was careful. I made sure you weren't inside."

"Why would you do that?"

"If you had no one to go back to, it would've been easier to take you with me."

Syaoran punched him. "Where is she?"

The man looked up at the sky, smiling as if the fire was nothing more than a pleasant dream.

Syaoran punched him again. "_Where is she_?"

"The princess? Hmm . . . I don't recall."

His fist slammed into the man's teeth, hard enough to send sparks of pain up his wrist. Syaoran reeled back, finding his footing. "I don't have time for this," he whispered to himself, running toward the fire escape he'd seen the others coming down before. The crowds hadn't dissipated any since he'd hit Seishirou. _I can't believe I actually hit him, _some distant part of his mind remarked. The rest rang with a one-word chorus: _Sakura, Sakura, Sakura . . . _

Faces rushed past him, still moving in the opposite direction. He plowed through dozens of bodies, eliciting cries of pain and angry shouts. All these sounds yielded to the sirens.

His eyes scanned every face, looking for anyone familiar. Ashes rained down on the street, mixed with drops of water from the massive hoses the firefighters were pointing at the blaze. Before he broke free of the crowd, every face was painted gray with soot. This made identifying the strange and the familiar more difficult. He found himself hesitating on certain faces. _Is that one of the judges from the arena? _he would wonder, seeing a vaguely familiar, sooty face. _I think I saw that woman buying a pop out of the pop machine the other day. _All irrelevant, all taking time away from the most important task. _Hey, that guy lives next door._

The sea of faces thinned out a little bit, but he still couldn't find Sakura. Despair gripped him like a vice.

_Please, _he thought, to whatever power might be listening. _Please, let her be alive. That's all I ask. _

He could taste the ash as it settled over the back of his tongue. The smoke and soot filled his nose, overpowering every other smell. "Sakura!" he cried hoarsely, in once last attempt to draw her attention.

"Syaoran-kun?"

His head whipped around at the sound of her voice, and his legs shot forward with renewed strength. Without even considering the consequences, he rushed up to her and wrapped his arms tight around her petite frame, holding her close to his body. "Sakura . . ." he whispered, tears flowing free from his eyes. "Sakura, you're okay."

Her arms slowly wrapped around him as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Ashes continued to fall.


	22. Dead

Chapter Twenty-Two

Even if she'd had the foresight to predict the disaster, she still wouldn't have imagined Syaoran reacting like this. His arms were so tight around her chest, it was a struggle to breathe. Her eyes overflowed with tears, the shock of the situation finally hitting her as she found a safe place in his arms. Sobs racked her body, and it took her a moment to realize he was crying, too.

_I don't think I've ever seeing him cry,_ she thought, though there had been times when she'd suspected he'd gone off alone to do just that. Both Syaorans, not just this one.

"Are you okay?" he asked after almost a minute, not loosening his embrace.

"Yeah."

"You're not burnt or . . ."

She shook her head.

"I'm glad," he whispered, pressing his moistened cheek to hers. It was the most intimate contact she'd ever had with him, though that was not saying much given how little they'd interacted since coming to Infinity. She hadn't realized how much she'd been craving this interaction until he'd wrapped his arms around her.

Yet, somehow, it still wasn't quite right. The arms she wanted encircling her were off in some other dimension, possibly being used to kill. However similar the two of them were, this Syaoran wasn't _hers_ like the other had been.

"We have to find Fai-san, and Kurogane-san," she said, unlacing her arms from his waist and lifting them to her face, to wipe away the tears and ashes. With palpable reluctance, he loosened his embrace and finally, painfully, let her go.

"Right. I think I saw them coming down the fire escape."

She remembered watching Fai run back up the stairs, slicing through the crowd. She remembered standing there, staring up at him until the heat of the inferno overwhelmed her and forced her to hobble down the metal steps. _If they were coming down, they must've gotten away okay, _she thought, turning and looking around to find them.

"There," Syaoran said, pointing. Sakura craned her neck in that direction and saw the faces of her companions. She hurried over, Syaoran on her heels.

"Is everyone safe?" she asked Kurogane when she was close enough, assuming the dark-haired man had stayed behind to help people get out.

"Everyone who found out in time escaped, at least from our floor."

"That's good."

"How did you know there was a fire escape at the end of the hall?" the ninja asked, watching her face the same way he did whenever he asked Syaoran questions. "There wasn't a sign, and the extra room would've prevented anyone from seeing the actual door."

She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to explain the flash of intuition she'd experienced when she'd seen the flames coming up from the stairwell. "I'm not sure . . . I remember Yukito-san teaching me a little bit about how to use my magic, but I left before I could learn much. Or I don't remember all of it." She frowned. From what she knew of her past, she was pretty much acting in line with her old personality, but even so, she found herself uncharacteristically annoyed by the fact that she didn't remember more than a few fragments of what Yukito had taught her. _I know he was teaching me how to look into the future, but I can't remember how exactly I'm supposed to do that._

_Maybe that's best, _part of her suggested. _If Seishirou is on the lookout for magic-users, it may be better to act like you don't have any useful magic at all. _Her thoughts drifted to Syaoran without her permission. _I've only ever seen him use magic once, back in Tokyo, but Seishirou seemed sure that whatever he could do would be enough. But what _does_ he want? A warrior? That would only make sense if Syaoran was just as skilled a fighter as he was. And if that was it, taking me along wouldn't have even crossed his mind. So Syaoran must have other magic that Seishirou could use. _She wondered if Syaoran would tell her what kind of magic he had, if she asked.

_Probably not, _she decided. _Fai was right about that much. Syaoran's not going to talk about it, if there's any way to avoid it._

"Are you feeling okay, Sakura-chan?" Fai asked, jerking her out of her ponderings.

"I'm fine. I'm not hurt at all, so please, don't let me be a burden to you."

The magician reached down and ruffled her hair. "It's not a burden at all."

Soot continued falling down from the sky, mingling with the water from the fire hoses. The fire had mostly died down now, leaving the blackened skeleton of the apartment complex behind. Sakura stared at the charred bricks, the now-absent windows, the smoke stains on the walls. The others followed her gaze.

"I guess we're going to have to find a new apartment," Fai said.

"We won't have the money for a payment until tomorrow, after the fight." The ninja wiped a hand across his face, smearing the gray ashes plastered to his skin.

"We could camp out in the park."

"What a pain."

Sakura looked at Syaoran, hoping he'd have a suggestion. He just shrugged. "There's a decent spot near the fountain. It should stay warm enough."

_It's going to be a long night, _she thought, deflated.

"In any case," Fai said. "we should probably clear out before the building comes down around us."

The ninja rolled his eyes, but started walking. Everyone else followed.

Dozens of others from their building had gathered in the park, but the spot Syaoran had mentioned remained unclaimed. Fai laid his coat, grabbed hastily in their escape, by the fountain. "Sakura-chan?"

"I'm not tired."

Some of the light left the magician's eye. Sakura sat down on the edge of the fountain, feeling guilty for the abrupt refusal, but knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep, no matter how soft his coat was.

Kurogane sat down on the ground, leaning against the edge of the fountain and closing his eyes. Syaoran curled up under the lip of the fountain, laying against the hard ground. Looking dejected, Fai laid down on top of his coat.

Sakura watched the firefighters douse the remainder of the flames. Every so often, one of them would come out of the building carrying an ash-covered body. Some of these were still moving, or crying out in agony. Some, she knew as she took in their dangling limbs and unresponsive faces, were dead. As the streets filled with soot, engines stalled and people wheezed. There was no way she could describe what she saw as anything but a disaster.

The others slept, in spite of their uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. Kurogane fell asleep first, still sitting up. Or, at least, she thought he was sleeping. His body was perfectly still, and his eyes were shut. Without any snoring or indication of dreaming, though, she couldn't be sure. Fai rolled over once so he lie flat on his stomach, face smothered by the soft fur of his hood. Mokona peeked out his shirt and looked around for a bit before plopping down on her lap and going to sleep.

It was Syaoran's sleep that fascinated her most. He didn't fall asleep easily, judging by how many he times he had to readjust before his muscles relaxed. Even then, he moved restlessly, occasionally murmuring things too indistinct to make sense of. Now and then, his body would tighten up, and his forehead would wrinkle, like he was cringing away from something.

_He dreams, _she thought. _And not all his dreams are pleasant. _

She wondered what they were about. If she'd been sleeping, her nightmares would've likely stemmed from the stressful events of tonight, but perhaps Syaoran was dreaming of his time in captivity. _I wonder what they did to him. He said he'd been imprisoned for a very long time, and that he has all the memories of the Syaoran I knew, but he never said why he was held prisoner. _

Syaoran turned restlessly. "Don't," he murmured. She leaned in closer, trying to understand the meaning behind the word. "Please don't . . ."

_What are you dreaming about?_ she wanted to ask, but even if she woke him, what were the chances he'd remember his dream? She settled for eavesdropping on his sleep talk. He muttered a few indistinct syllables, then rolled over again, one hand reaching out as if to restrain someone. After a few moments, he dropped his hand. ". . . not a monster," he murmured. The distress in his voice made her want to wake him, but just as she moved her hand to nudge him awake, he rolled over again. "I'm not a monster."

_No, _she thought. _You're not a monster at all._


	23. Annoyed

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Shall I kill her?" the Other asked, as if it was the most normal question in the world.

"Don't!" Syaoran yelled, unable to do anything, unable even to extend a hand in reproach. The Other seemed to hear him well enough, though, because a smirk crawled across his face.

_My face, _Syaoran thought, disquiet slithering through him. _All but the eyes._

"But she has a feather." His grip tightened around the woman's abdomen, her broken hands clutching the feather tighter as she whimpered. With dreamlike certainty, Syaoran knew this woman had magic, had been using the feather to increase her power. Knew that, even with the boost in her ability, she wouldn't be able to break free of the clone's hold.

"Don't . . . Please don't . . ." he pleaded, since the wounded woman seemed incapable of speaking.

"We're looking for the feathers, remember?" the Other said, probably the longest string of words he'd pieced together since losing what remained of his soul back in Tokyo. He moved the dagger, a cheap-looking thing probably taken off one of the corpses he'd left in his wake, to the woman's throat. She whimpered, tears pouring down her fair skin. Dried blood had crusted in her hair, dying the golden strands a dingy red-brown color.

The woman must've been in awful pain, because she released the feather right then, letting it drift down to the ground.

"There," Syaoran breathed. "Let her go now."

The Other's smirk widened, and he moved the dagger once across the woman's throat. Fresh blood spurted from her carotid artery, and seconds later, her rigid body went limp. The Other discarded her corpse like a piece of wrapping paper. "She got in my way," he said. "so I killed her."

Shock robbed him of all but the most rudimentary words. "You're a monster."

"We're the same, you and I. Born of the same soul, carrying the same powers. Only I'm stronger, I have more magic than you ever will. And I . . ." He kicked the corpse away, snapping several of her ribs. Even though the woman was too far gone to feel any pain, the total disregard for her snuffed-out life made Syaoran gasp. "I do not show mercy."

"Monster . . ."

"If we're the same person, that makes you a monster, too."

"I'm not a monster!"

Another voice echoed behind him, causing him to whip around. "You are," Sakura said, her jade eyes boring into him with a steely glint.

"No," he whispered.

"You are, and you know it."

"_I'm not a monster_!"

Her face changed, jaw coming back slightly, skin going pale white. Her eyes went from green to gold, and one eye disappeared under a black eye patch. "I do want you dead," Fai said, in the same frigid tone he'd used a few nights ago.

Syaoran felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. All around him, the landscape blurred and changed, shifting between dimensions in fast forward. He saw Clow, then the Hanshin Republic, then Koryo, then Jade . . . All the way up through Infinity, where his companions' eyes looked on with apathy.

Syaoran snapped awake, rising up into a sitting position and hitting his head on the edge of the fountain. Pain shot through his entire body, like a lightning bolt, and his hands flew to his head, clutching the impact wound.

"Are you okay?" someone asked. _Sakura, _he thought, wondering why she would care after . . . _Oh, that the dream wasn't it? _He rubbed his head, eyes clenched shut.

"Syaoran-kun?" This voice seemed to come from farther away, and had a deeper quality to it. When he identified Fai's voice, his lip twisted in fury. _You said that, _he thought. _That wasn't just a dream, you really said that about me. And now you're acting like you never did!_ He crawled a few feet away from the fountain, trying to recover from the hit he'd taken.

"What?" he demanded when he was focused enough to speak. The magician processed his tone with apparent surprise.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Again, the mage seemed surprised by his anger. As the pain faded, Syaoran realized why. _He doesn't know I heard him. He thinks everything is still fine between us. There's no reason for him to believe otherwise._ Working through those thoughts dulled his anger a little; it dropped down to mild annoyance.

He looked around, noticing the blackened bricks of their apartment building. The city stank of smoke, even after allowing the compromised structure to air out overnight. Some people, who had taken refuge in the park, were still covered in ash, and even the grass had a fine layer of gray over it. As he took stock of his surrounding, he realized one of their party was missing. "Where's Kurogane-san?"

Fai looked around, rubbing his head as if trying to recall where the ninja was gone. The gesture was so much like the magician the Other had known that Syaoran forgot, for a second, the tension between them. "I think he said something about breakfast."

"Oh." _I suppose that means our training will be delayed. _He sighed, unsure if he should feel relieved about getting a break, or worried because the most reliable member of the group was somewhere else.

"Don't worry. Kurogane will be just fine."

Truthfully, he was more worried about the magician dropping the nicknames than he was about his teacher actually getting hurt, but with the peace in their group hanging so precariously over the edge, he decided not to say anything. Instead, he stood up and started stretching out, in the hopes that Kurogane would be back soon. As he moved, he realized how sore his right hand was. _How hard did I hit Seishirou yesterday? _he wondered, staring at his swollen knuckles. A darker part of him thought, _Hard enough to knock a few teeth loose, I hope. _

He sat down on the edge of the fountain, resting his head in his hands. Between the nightmares this morning and the restless sleep of the days before, he was exhausted. Even as he struggled to stay awake, his eyelids slid shut, and his head bobbed up and down.

"Maybe you should go back to bed," Fai suggested.

"There's no point." _The day's not going to get any better if I have to watch my clone again. If I was even watching him. The rest of it was all a dream, maybe he was, too. _He nodded off again, catching himself just as his head jerked back up.

"It'll be harder to practice if you're tired like this," the magician went on. Syaoran made a concerted effort to keep his eyes open.

"I don't want to sleep."

"And why not?"

_Because I'll have nightmares. _He gritted his teeth in irritation. "I just don't."

"Syaoran-kun . . ." Sakura said. For the first time in weeks, he heard an edge of concern in her voice.

He tried to control himself as he stood up. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Seconds passed as she said nothing. He wasn't sure why he'd expected her to. _I'm not the Other. She doesn't care enough about me to reason with me. _

"And what good would that do, anyway?" he said to himself, lifting a hand to his forehead.

"What was that?" Fai asked, confused. Syaoran jumped, surprised to realize he'd spoken aloud. _I have to keep my guard up around them, _he thought irrationally. _I can't sleep and I can't let them hear me talking to myself. _

"Nothing. I'm going to go look around, see if I can find any more information about this city's history. If there's another feather in this world, we have to find it." He walked off, not waiting for a reply. _Why would they answer me? _he thought bitterly. _I'm nothing to them._

The park was a tiny patch of land, scarcely larger than their destroyed apartment. Syaoran walked beyond the ash-covered grass, across the closed off street, then down the sidewalk, his eyes scanning everyone and everything he passed. If there was one thing he was good at after his years of imprisonment, it was watching. Every detail carried some significance, it was just a matter of figuring out which details pertained to him, and which were unnecessary to remember.

_Watching. I'm always watching. _His gaze swept up and down three other streets as he turned the corner, taking in dozens of cars, hundreds of faces. As he moved further from the site of the disaster, the shades of gray faded from the objects, revealing their true colors. Two streets away, he saw a blue car, a red fire hydrant, the sleek black contours of a new skyscraper. People strolled down distant sidewalks, none looking at the scarred bricks of the Ephemeral Apartments. Their colorful clothes and clean faces seemed like a protest against the disaster, a denial that it had happened.

A single, gray figure stood still among the bustling city, as stationary as the black lamppost he leaned against. Syaoran approached the figure, moving with thick crowds of city residents across the overflowing streets. When he reached the man, he stood there, awaiting a response.

Seishirou turned. "I'm surprised to see you here so soon, Syaoran-kun. Have you come to make a deal with me?"

"I have."


	24. Promised

Chapter Twenty-Four

"I have questions," Syaoran said, getting that out of the way before his old teacher made him agree to anything. "And qualifications."

"Naturally." Seishirou smiled lazily. "Come with me, then." The man turned, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. Syaoran followed, keeping a few feet back, out of range. He didn't _think _Seishirou was going to attack him, now that he was being compliant, but assumptions had a way of backfiring in the most spectacular way possible, and he didn't want to risk getting knocked out and dragged away to do whatever his old teacher had in mind.

"Where are we going?"

"To my apartment, in the Paradox District."

"Why are we going there?"

"There's something I have to show you, to put things in perspective."

He said nothing more as they walked. Even when he'd trained with the dark-haired man in Clow, he'd been aware of how indirect his methods could be. _That wasn't me, that was the Other, _he reminded himself. The thought came automatically now, whenever he referenced something that related to his clone's past. _I have lived his life from the moment he landed in Clow, but I will never be him. _

He tried to return to what he'd been thinking about a moment ago. _Seishirou has__ always been cryptic, even when he was helping me learn. He would always say things I didn't understand. Was he like that because he'd been traveling so long he didn't feel the need to tell me anything, or because he thought I wouldn't understand? That would make sense. If he told me about all the things in all the worlds he's seen, I still wouldn't understand half of it. Even when I first saw the Hanshin Republic, I was awed by all the technology, the buildings, the cars . . ._

_The Other was awed, at least._

Seishirou turned a corner, his beige cloak billowing out behind him, throwing clouds of ash into the air. Syaoran followed, refocusing. _When he told the Other he was looking for vampires, way back then . . . That was the most direct piece of information he ever gave up, and he didn't even include any details about who they were, or that they were traveling through dimensions to avoid him. I still don't know the story behind that. Maybe I should ask. Maybe I'll get an answer. _

"We're here."

The steel skyscraper must've gone up at least fifty floors. One-way windows reflected open sky, a bright blue expanse laced with cumulus clouds. The squared-off edges of the tower shimmered as the sunlight hit them, producing a glare that threw rainbows across the nearby buildings. Through the windows on the bottom floor, he saw a lobby with a hardwood floor, recently polished, and half a dozen flat-screen TVs like those he'd seen in numerous shops on the way here. A front desk made of some rich, polished wood dominated one wall, while the rest of the lobby overflowed with soft seats and end tables.

"You _live _here?"

"Temporarily."

"How can you afford this? How long have you been here?"

"When you've been traveling as long as I have, you learn how to make money fast. Come on, we'd best be getting up to my suite."

After a brief hesitation, Syaoran followed. The man behind the front desk looked up in distaste as their grayed figures moved across the floor, but his disdainful expression quickly changed to one of warmth as he took in Seishirou's face. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Devin. Will you please have one of your employees send the elevator down?"

"Of course."

_They have people that do that? _Syaoran wondered. _What kind of place is this? _

"Are you coming, or not?" Seishirou asked. Syaoran hurried over to his side, then fell back a little bit, keeping his distance. They passed through a small antechamber, where an attendant waited for them beside a pair of red elevator doors.

"To the penthouse, Seishirou-sama?"

"If you would be so kind."

The short, balding man hit a button in the elevator, allowing the doors to part. The three of them stepped inside the spacious elevator, where the hotel employee pressed the appropriate buttons and sent them shooting up to the top floor. Syaoran fidgeted as they moved, uneasy in the closed off space. On the off chance Seishirou decided to kill him now, or whisk him away to another dimension, he'd have no space to fight back, and no means of escape.

His old teacher didn't attack, though, and they reached the top. The doors opened up again, and they stepped out, leaving the balding man to return to the main floor.

However luxurious this hotel was, Seishirou had decorated his apartment comfortably, like a regular house. A wine red couch sat in one corner of the room, in view of the TV. Several rugs were sprawled across the wooden floor, giving the suite a softer touch.

"Why did you bring me here?" Syaoran asked, not sure how any of this could be relevant to making a deal.

For once, Seishirou wasn't smiling. Without a word, he strolled across the apartment, over to a door covered in ornate carvings. Syaoran edged forward.

The man pressed down on the handle, but didn't open the door. "You've realized by now that time flows differently in each dimension, yes?"

He nodded.

"So, even though you saw him not long ago, you'll understand why his condition has deteriorated so. I ran into him in the last world I went to, and found him like this."

_Found who? _he wondered as the door swung open.

"My brother, Fuuma, left Tokyo shortly after you did. In the world he went to afterward, he fell ill with a strange disease that leaves him exhausted, always near death."

Syaoran stared at the unconscious man's face, noting the paleness of his skin, the gaunt features of his once-smooth face.

"The feather I have keeps the disease from spreading too fast, but if I take it away for more than a few hours at a time, he grows ill again, and I know you'll need the feather back at some point. I need a long-term fix for this, something that will allow him to travel on his own again."

"And that's what you need me for," Syaoran surmised, looking down at his feet.

"Yes."

"I don't have any magic that can help him, if that's what you're looking for. All the magic I have is for self-defense, and even if I were to try and adapt that to some form of healing magic, I doubt there's anything I can do."

"That's why I contacted Yuuko-san. The price to save him requires me to enlist your help."

He made himself look up at the ill man in the bed. _His brother. All he's doing is trying to save his brother. _The plight was worthy of pity, worthy of a steep price, but he knew from what Seishirou had told him before that the price his old teacher had in mind would interfere with his quest to find Sakura's feathers.

_So why did you go looking for him, if you weren't willing to listen? _part of his mind demanded. _You know the price is going to be something you're unwilling to pay, so why give him false hope?_

"So you see, we need help. Are you willing to help us?"

"You still haven't told me what I'd need to do."

"Travel with me. I'll keep you safe until the time comes, but there is a certain place we have to go in order to pay the price. I give you my word that you have nothing extraordinary or personal at risk. I will pay the brunt of the price, all I need is someone to assist me with the final stages of my payment."

"Your word . . ." _Your word was good in Clow, but that was a promise with a child over a history book. Is your word as good over something of value? _"Can I trust it?"

"You have before."

"Can I trust it _now_?"

Seishirou nodded. "For the life of my brother, take me at my word."

Syaoran looked away again, turning from the door and moving over to the edge of the couch. _I can believe that, _he thought. _Seishirou never mentioned Fuuma was his brother. I had to find that out from Fuuma, back in Tokyo. But it makes sense that, if someone precious to him is dying, he'd do anything he could. That was why I . . . No, that was why the Other went on this journey. _He sighed. "What kind of timeline are we looking at here?" he asked, in a monotone voice.

"A few months of your time. I don't know precisely how much time that's going to be for the rest of your group, seeing as they'll be in different dimensions, but Yuuko's set up the path of least interference, so it shouldn't be too long for them, either. As for Fuuma . . . he only has a few months left. If we don't leave Infinity soon, we won't finish up our work in time to save him."

Syaoran considered that for a moment. _A few months shouldn't seem so long, _he thought. _But it took my clone less than an hour to destroy months of work, and these past few weeks have been the longest of my life. No, a few months shouldn't seem like an eternity, but it very well could be._

_But it's his _brother_. He's just trying to save someone he cares about. That would be like you saving Sakura. Even if it took years, even if you had to give everything you owned to save her, you would do it. Even now, even though she's mourning over the Other, even though you don't love her like the Other did . . . Is it so different? Is your journey any more important to you than Seishirou's is to him? _"I need a few days," he said. "I need to think, to get away from this for a bit. But I need your word on something else, before I do anything."

"And what would that be?"

"Whatever I choose . . . Whether I help you or not . . . You _can't _come after me, or Sakura, or any of my companions. I won't make this choice with a sword hanging over their heads. If I feel they're in enough danger, I'll kill myself to keep you from harming them, so . . . Do I have your word?"

To his credit, Seishirou didn't hesitate a second. "You have my word."


	25. Smiled

Chapter Twenty-Five

The bald man from the elevator escorted him out of the hotel, at Seishirou's insistence. Syaoran walked alongside the uniformed man, his thoughts a tangled mess of potential loopholes, worry, and resignation. As he walked out into the midmorning air, he realized he needed some pretext to explain his long absence. _I told Fai I was going to find out more about this country, but I don't have time to find substantial enough to merit an hour of wandering around. Maybe I could find something else. _His eyes flitted over dozens of buildings, looking for one that could reasonably draw his attention given what he'd set out to do.

_I can't believe I have to worry about this, _he thought. _If I didn't have to keep this deal a secret, I wouldn't have to think of an excuse. _For a moment, he considered telling them the truth. Just for a moment. Then, he dismissed the thought as an irrational idea brought on by sleep exhaustion and continued looking for potential excuses. _I could say I went to the library. I wasn't really gone long enough for that to make sense, though. Maybe I could say it was closed. But what if they checked? I could make up a library, something they haven't heard of, but that's another lie to keep track of, and if they ask me about it later, how am I supposed to remember what I named it? Maybe I could get by without a name. _He reached the edge of the park, and caught sight of the others. _That'll have to be good enough._

He walked back, keeping his pace slow so as not to tip them off to his subterfuge. When he approached, Kurogane turned toward him, looking annoyed. "Where did you run off to?"

"I went to the library, to see if there was any more information on this country's history." He stopped there, not sure if he should mention his supposed research pertained to Sakura's feathers, or if that was obvious enough that it didn't require explanation.

None of them called him on it, though, so he sat down on the edge of the fountain.

"Kurogane got us breakfast," Fai said, handing him a paper bag smelling of grease and salt.

The ninja shrugged. "It was the closest place that had food."

Syaoran unwrapped the contents of their breakfast and started eating. Despite the greasy packaging and strong smell, the food was actually quite tasty. He ate quickly, so as not to annoy his teacher any more than he already had. As soon as he was done, the ninja stood up. "We're going to work on your balance today," he said, walking toward the edge of the park, where a stone wall separated the grass from the sidewalk. Before he explained any further, Syaoran guessed what they'd be doing.

"I'm going to have to walk across the top of that fence, aren't I?"

Kurogane nodded.

_Well, that doesn't sound too painful. _He looked at the short fence, glad he wouldn't have far to fall. After trying to walk on his hands, his balance was much better. _It seems a little too easy._

"You'll have to dodge the pebbles I throw at you without losing your balance."

_You just _had _to go and think it, didn't you? _"Okay," he said, as he climbed on top of the stone wall. It was just wide enough for him to fit both his feet side-by-side on top. _That gives me some room, _he thought, positioning himself in a defensive stance as the ninja picked up a handful of round rocks from the ground.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

He actually managed to avoid the first few rocks, kicking some away and avoiding others altogether. As his success became apparent, they flew at him with greater speed, and in greater numbers. After almost a minute, one of the stones grazed the side of his face. Two more followed as he flinched in pain, and his balance faltered. His hands shot out, securing him to the ledge before he fell, but it was a near thing.

"Try moving like the mage," Kurogane said, stooping down to pick up more pebbles. "Be flexible and react in the fastest way possible, even if you have to sacrifice a counterattack to get out of the way. You won't win any battles if you die."

The thought of Fai's movements sent a rush of emotions through him, the most dominant being resentment, and the rest of it different flavors of guilt for feeling irritated. _He's right__ to want you dead. You've got a clone wandering around with half his magic, and you won't explain how that came to be. _

But he did as Kurogane said, trying to move as if he was made of paper, like Fai did. He actually found it easier to avoid the projectiles when his every other movement wasn't focused on retaliation. _It's always been about fighting back. Seishirou taught me . . . taught the Other to use an enemy's power against them, and how to compensate for being blind in one eye, but everything he taught had an offensive component to it. I never focused on just avoiding attacks. _He bent backwards to avoid a stone, pressing his hands against the top of the stone wall and using the leverage to propel himself upward again. He flipped, landing like a cat on his feet.

"Good," Kurogane said, tossing another handful of pebbles his way. He dodged, and the game began anew.

* * *

><p>Cheers rose from the audience as they walked out into the arena. "And returning after a near-lethal injury, Team Big Puppy!"<p>

Kurogane turned to the mage, shaking his head. "I still can't believe you named us that."

"It was the first thing that came to mind."

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention to their opponents, just walking in from the door on the opposite end of the arena. Three teenagers, each wearing the chains all competitors were required to wear, stepped out, followed by their controller, a gray-haired man with withered features and sagging cheeks. Despite the age gap, the family resemblance was obvious. _Reliving old glory, or carrying on a family legacy? _Kurogane wondered, as the announcer drove the crowd wild. It didn't matter who they were, or what their connection was. He would take them down, just like any other opponent.

"How high are the stakes on this one?" Fai asked.

"High enough to pay for a new apartment," he said. "These guys have been in tournaments like these since they were old enough to fight." _Still not more than five or six years. Veterans, but not experts. _

"I'm sure you'll be able to take them down, Kurogane."

He sighed, unsheathing Souhi. Beside him, the kid took a fighting stance, his eyes trained on their opponents. _Focused._ _Good, _he thought. _He's not underestimating them because they're young. _That was perhaps the one advantage younger fighters had over old masters: they treated every opponent as a grave threat, because they expected their own age to make them an underdog.

"On my mark," the announcer said, lifting his scepter up as a signal for the audience to pay attention. "Get set . . ."

Fai turned toward their enemies, his eye shifting to gold. Behind them, Sakura sat down on her throne, every muscle rigid with focus.

"Fight!"

Their opponents ran across the arena, each brandishing different weapons. Kurogane aligned himself so he was facing the one holding a sword, since that was the weapon he was most familiar with. Fai raced ahead of them, moving with supernatural speed toward the youngest of the boys. That one wielded a scythe suspended on a chain. That left the kid to fight the unarmed boy sneaking in from the left.

The teams met. The sword-wielding blond brought his weapon around in a wide arc, not moving until the last possible second. _Skilled, but not exceptional. _He raised Souhi to deflect the blow, listening to the way the sharp edge of his opponent's blade moved across his. Before the boy could move to attack again, the ninja sent a blast of energy from his sword in that direction, throwing the blond back and knocking the sword out of his hands. The boy rose up from his crouch gracefully, sporting a few new cuts and bruises.

Before Tomoyo had cursed him, he would've just killed the blond. This was a fight, and in his country, losing a fight most often meant death, unless there was something to be gained from keeping the defeated opponent alive. Now, though, he waited for the boy to pick his sword up, then lunged forward, sending another blast in his direction. This time, the kid was better braced for the attack, lifting his sword up to deflect most of the energy.

A few feet away, Syaoran threw a kick to his opponent. Kurogane heard the sound of bones cracking. _A solid strike, _Kurogane thought, parrying another blow as he watched his student.

The two of them went at it, moving smoothly. The kid had apparently taken today's lesson to heart, because he was focused more on avoiding his opponent's blows than he was on attacking. _Good, he'll live longer that way, _he thought, watching the boy sidestep a punch.

Just as that happened, the sword-wielding blond moved to attack again. The ninja brought Souhi up and cut his opponent's wrist, parting the flesh and baring the bone underneath. Blood gushed from the wound like a fountain.

This must've flustered the old man controlling them, because the other teenagers' movements slowed. _The chess-master's will controls how well the chess pieces are able to fight. As soon as the leader falters, the battle changes tides. _

The slowed movements allowed the others in his group to gain the upper hand. The magician got hold of the free-swinging scythe and ripped it from his enemy's grasp, bringing it around to knock the young boy unconscious. While the mage finished off that one, the kid saw an opening and twisted his whole body to throw a powerful kick to his opponent's sternum. Kurogane moved Souhi to the sword-user's throat, tilting his head up with the dull side of the blade. He recoiled, still clutching his bleeding wrist. "I s-surrender," he stammered, looking to his grandfather in desperation. The old man stood up and gave the hand signal for surrender, looking bitterly disappointed.

"Team Riverrun surrenders!" the announcer blared over the microphone. "Team Big Puppy advances to Bronze Rank!"

A chorus of cheers rose up at the declaration. Kurogane sheathed his sword and put his hands in his pockets. He turned to the kid. "Your reaction time is getting better, but you still need work."

The kid's face stretched into a smile as he registered the approval. Kurogane blinked in surprise. _That's the first time I've seen him smile, _he realized.

Fai strolled over to the betting center nearest to the arena, leaning close to the glass. "We'll take our winnings now," he said, still wearing that easy grin, though his eye was still gold.

The woman behind the glass handed him an envelope with enough cash to rent a new apartment, her eyes dropping as the purpose for the vampire's eye-patch registered with her. She paled a little.

Fai turned back to them, grinning as if he hadn't seen the way she'd looked at him. "I think we'll be able to afford a nicer apartment with this, don't you, Kurogane?"

He shrugged. "The lady at the counter said that higher ranked fights paid more, so I suppose we will." _Maybe the extra space will diffuse some of the tension, _he thought. _At least I won't have to share a room with that damn mage._


	26. Weighed

Chapter Twenty-Six

The new apartment _was _nicer.

"We each have our own rooms," Fai announced as he swept through the living room. He'd picked this suite out, not even bothering to consult the rest of them. From the Other's memories, Syaoran guessed that this was right on point with how Fai normally did things. "The kitchen is still attached to the living room, but we've got another two-hundred square feet between them, and the bathroom is almost twice the size of our old one. And _look_." The sorcerer picked up a small black box from the countertop and hit the red button on top. Across the room, a piece of the wall slid away to reveal a flat-screen television.

"Are you sure we can afford this?" Sakura asked, seeming uneasy around the fine furnishings despite growing up in a palace. _Of course, I would know more about the palace than she does, at this point, so . . ._

"We'll win a few more games like we did tonight, and everything will be fine." Fai spun around, as if taking in the entire apartment in one sweeping motion. "So? What do you think?"

"As long as I don't have to share a room with you," Kurogane said, strangely lighthearted despite his abhorrence for the mage's bubbly personality.

"I like it, too," Sakura chimed in, once she'd adjusted to the idea of living here. Fai's smile widened, and for the first time in weeks, his gaze slid deliberately over to Syaoran.

He froze up, all vocal functions cutting off as the single blue eye stared him down. He had to look away before he could respond. "It's great."

Fai must've been content with his answer, because he looked up again and made a wide gesture to the apartment. "I call the shower first. The rest of you pick your rooms and get to sleep, we've got another big fight ahead of us tomorrow."

"Hey," the ninja said as the blond danced into the bathroom. "Who said you got to shower first?"

Fai just grinned and closed the door behind him. Kurogane grumbled something unintelligible, stalking over to the nearest bedroom. Sakura did the same, inspecting each room with a quick glance before deciding on the one with the biggest window.

Syaoran held back, waiting to see where the others went before moving into his room. Fai had claimed the one nearest to the door in his earlier visit. Kurogane walked back and forth between the remaining two a few times, then selected one without seeming to think about it. Once he went inside, Syaoran headed to the last one, the one on the far right, and examined his new home.

There was a bed, with nice sheets, and a dresser to put the clothes they'd bought while Fai was busy picking out an apartment. He started unpacking, being careful to make as little contact with the clothes as possible due to the thin layer of ash still stuck to the clothes he was wearing.

This room was bigger than the closet-sized space he'd sequestered himself in at the last apartment. Somehow, the open space unnerved him. _Things can hide in a space this size, _he thought. It was an irrational thought, and he acknowledged that, but as it passed through his mind, a shudder ran down his back. "Don't be such a coward," he told himself, externalizing the thought that had been repeating in his mind so often over the past few weeks: _It's just breakfast, don't be such a coward. Seishirou's not going to steal you out of your room, don't be such a coward. It was just a dream, why are you acting like a scared little kid? _

He sighed and finished loading his dresser with clothes. He stripped off the dirty ones and dressed, keeping the clothes away from his dusty hair. _I could use a shower, _he thought, knowing he wouldn't have the guts to take one until everyone else had had a turn. _I'm going to have to think of new ways to call myself craven, _he thought bitterly.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and flipped open a book he'd bought with their winnings. Before he was even past the first page, he found his mind straying to his meeting with Seishirou early this morning.

_I don't have to go, _he told himself. _I made him promise he wouldn't hurt the others, that's all I needed from him. That's why I went in the first place. Just because he can't pay the price to save his brother on his own doesn't mean I have to get involved. _

Instantly, he felt guilty for the thought. _No, that's wrong. That's just you being selfish. _

"_You're a monster." _

"No . . . Just selfish." _Selfish and craven. Nothing like the Other used to be. He would've given everything to help Sakura, and he would've never backed down from any challenge, no matter how suicidal. I'm not anything like he was. _

_But that person is gone now, and there's a monster in his place. _

He set the book down in his lap as the water cut off in the bathroom. _If I _were _to go with Seishirou . . . What do I stand to gain from that? He said we'd be traveling through dimensions. There's a chance I might find a few feathers along the way. If the deadline is measured in months, surely he'd allow me a little time in each dimension to look. But how would I find them, without Mokona? I would have to research every country's history, listen to all the recent reports. Even then, I wouldn't know for sure where the feathers were until I actually saw them. _

_The Other doesn't seem to have any problem finding them, though. Who knows what he's _doing _with them, but at least he's _finding _them. _Had the Other paid some sort of price to the witch, or had stealing Fai's magic been enough to let him sense strong powers as he traversed the worlds? If it was the latter, that would explain the bloodhound-like tracking ability of his clone. _It must be that. How would he even get in contact with Yuuko-san? Unless Fai's magic could do that, too. Maybe I should ask._

He rejected the thought immediately. _No, Fai wouldn't like me to ask about that. It's bad enough he has to remember Tokyo every time he looks in a mirror. There's no reason to remind him what my clone did. Besides, the peace we've got now is too fragile; I can't risk breaking it when I have to fight alongside him again tomorrow._

Syaoran realized how far he'd strayed from his initial thoughts, and tried to correct the path his mind had taken. _What else could I gain from going with Seishirou? Will he teach me more about fighting? He didn't have time in Clow to teach me everything he knew, and even if he had, he's been traveling long enough since then to pick up some useful things. That might actually be helpful. Maybe not as helpful as training with Kurogane-san, but a diverse skill set could save my life. Even if I can summon a sword at will, there's no guarantee I'll always have the time or the ability to do so. _

He nodded to himself. _That seems like an acceptable exchange for the amount of time I'll be gone. But what else do I stand to lose, if I go?_

Those answers came a lot quicker: his friend's trust, seeing Sakura's face every day, potentially the ability to travel across dimensions once Seishirou was done with him. _What else? _he wondered. _The risk of death might be higher with just one person looking out for me. Not that too many people here actually care what happens to me. And if I leave them, they might name me a threat and attack the next time they see me. _The odds of surviving that were a lot lower than he wanted to consider. _There's also the fact that, if I leave, there'll be less people to protect Sakura. _

That consideration weighed heavily on his mind. Preserving Sakura's existence had been the main reason his clone had gone through with this journey, and Syaoran had to admit, even though the memories of her were mostly secondhand, he didn't want to lose her either. _Now that the Other has turned into a raging psychopath, I'm the only one who knows all about Sakura's memories. If she's missing some vital piece of information, something that could cause her death if she couldn't provide it . . . _He didn't think that would happen, but who could say? Fei Wang Reed had certainly taken an interest in her relatively normal life. _How can I know ninety-five percent of what's going on and still have no idea what I'm going to do about it? _he wondered.

"That's another problem," he muttered to himself. _What am I going to do about Reed? I don't have the power to kill him. That's clear enough after he managed to keep me imprisoned for so long. Even with everyone's help, I might not be able to take him down. And if I leave with Seishirou, I might not have their help when I really need it._

_Sakura will have their help though. Maybe I can use that. If they thought she'd be better off with me nearby . . . They must already think that, to let me stay with them. Would they still believe that if I disappeared for a few months? Would they be more willing to believe that if I told them ahead of time? _

_If you did that, it would only confirm what they suspect: that you've been keeping everything from them. That's true, of course, but that doesn't bode well for coming back._

"Neither does just disappearing with no explanation," he argued back. The loudness of his voice startled him, and he clamped a hand down over his mouth, looking toward his closed door. Several seconds passed as he waited to see if anyone would come knocking, curious as to why he was yelling at himself.

No one knocked, and he went back to thinking.

_So that's how much going with Seishirou would cost me, _he thought. "Too much," he muttered, keeping quiet. _I'll be risking too much, but . . . _

_But what do I stand to lose if I _don't _go? Fuuma is dying. I would have to live the rest of my life knowing I chose to let it happen. I didn't come into this wanting people to die. I trusted Seishirou once, and he gave me the skills it took to get this far. I can't just throw that back in his face by refusing him now. But I can't leave everyone else. Which matters more? Which project will wait on me?_

He knew the answer to that last one, and knowing took away half the arguments he had in mind to counter it. Sakura's situation wasn't so dire now that she was in decent health.

The situation Seishirou's brother in was considerably more urgent.

_So the all-important question is, _he thought. _how selfish am I? _


	27. Questioned

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kurogane knew his student had trouble sleeping. The bruise-like shadows over his eyes were the most obvious indication, but now the sleepless nights were starting to affect his focus.

"Your reaction time is slowing down again," Kurogane said, bringing Souhi around and leaving a shallow cut across the boy's nose. He jerked back, almost a quarter of a second too slow. The sudden movement threw him backwards into the dirt, leaving him vulnerable to attack. The ninja stepped forward, letting the tip of his sword rest on the boy's throat. "You died."

"Yeah . . ." He looked up, his expression torn between fear and hope. When the ninja didn't move the point of his blade away, the hope vanished.

Kurogane sighed. "Look, I don't know what's keeping you up at night, but you need to let it go, because it's messing with your focus."

Something flashed across the boy's face too fast for him to identify. Slowly, he lifted his sword and allowed the kid to stand up. He said nothing, just blinking sleepily as if the reminder had exhausted him even more.

"Okay, we're going to try this again. Ready?"

The boy took a defensive stance and nodded. Kurogane shifted forward to attack, and the dance began again.

They worked like this for a few more hours, until the kid was covered in fresh cuts. Exhausted as he seemed, he offered no word of complaint. _He's afraid that if he complains, I'll have reason to stop training him. That's why he always waits to be dismissed. That's why he won't complain even when the pain is obvious on his face. _He sighed. "It's time to go back."

"Okay." The quick obedience was something every master looked for in their students, but it actually worried him a little. The kid hadn't balked at being blindfolded, even knowing nothing good ever happened during that phase of the training. He'd been reluctant to display the extent of his injuries the night he'd come back with bloody feet. He'd agreed to every part of his training so far, without a fight, without a single word of protest. _The perfect student, _Kurogane thought, trying to figure out why the kid's flawless behavior bothered him. _Does he need approval so much that he'll risk overextending himself to get it? _

The kid glanced up at him, his expression turning to worry. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't say it.

_I can't exactly yell at him for listening to everything I say, _Kurogane thought, frustrated. _But there must be some way to get my point across without breaking down what I've built up. _He looked at the kid again, trying to think of something he could ask the kid to do that he _should _refuse.

_That could work_, he thought, as an idea occurred to him. He turned toward the boy. "I want you to go meet up with Seishirou."

That seemed to jar the kid out of his fatigue. His face paled and his eyes went wide and still, like he'd just witnessed a car accident. He hesitated, hands clenching into fists at his side. "W-what do you need me to do?"

Kurogane's palm hit his forehead with the force of a baseball bat. "That was a test," he said. The boy's shoulders sank in relief.

"I . . . failed, didn't I?"

He nodded, trying to be patient with the boy. _Don't destroy the complex. _"You said you weren't suicidal."

"I'm not."

"Then why would you agree to that?"

Confusion flashed across the boy's face. "Because you told me to."

_Let it go. Just let it go. _"And if I told you to jump off a building, would you do it?"

"No."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind. Let's go."

They hurried to their new apartment building in silence. After a few minutes, the kid's confused expression gave way to the dull gaze of the sleepless. _Maybe this wasn't the best time to test his judgment, _the ninja thought. In times of strife, he'd spent days at a stretch guarding Princess Tomoyo. Sleep deprivation stole judgment away almost as reliably as alcohol. _Though heavy amounts of the latter tend to relieve the former, _he thought as they passed through the doors. _Maybe I can make the kid pass out for a few hours._

They moved to the elevator and waited for it to lift them to the right floor. Once they were there, they walked down the corridor and turned left into their new apartment.

"You're later than usual, Kurogane," the mage said, wiping down the counters. "We already had dinner."

Sakura said, "Welcome back."

_The mage is taking care of her, _he thought, noting the mechanical quality to the princess's voice. _There's no point in worrying about her right now. _

The kid walked toward his room, like he always did after practice. "Hey, stick around, I've got something for you."

He glanced back, unsure if this was another test. Kurogane beckoned him once, impatiently, and pulled a bottle of wine from the shelf.

Sakura muttered something about going to bed, and fled to her room. Fai looked on with interest as the ninja poured wine into three shot glasses.

"I'm not sure if I should . . ." the kid began, looking guilty.

"Sit down. Have a drink. It'll help you sleep."

The back of the kid's neck turned crimson, as if his sleeplessness was an embarrassing medical condition. Obedient at ever, he walked back to the table and sat down, sipping at the wine as if he was drinking poison instead of a shot.

"What's the occasion?" Fai asked, after he'd downed his first drink. Kurogane poured the mage a second, hoping the alcohol would put him to sleep as well.

"To the new apartment," he said, lifting his glass ceremoniously. The other two did the same, one with exuberance, the other with obvious reluctance.

The ninja waited until the kid had about three drinks in him before he started asking questions. "So why are you having so much trouble sleeping?"

The boy shrugged shrugged. Surprisingly, Fai helped him along. "Is it nightmares?"

"Sometimes."

"What about?" the mage asked, pouring himself another shot.

"Lots of things . . ."

"Oh, be specific, Syaoran-kun."

It was hard to tell whether the kid was actually drunk or not. His speech didn't slur, and he'd yet to do anything clumsy or stupid. No, the only indication of his drunkenness was the fact that he seemed to take no notice of the mage's suddenly playful mood.

"The usual things. Getting killed in horrible ways, watching someone important die . . ." He hesitated, weighing the next words before he spoke them. "Mostly I dream of the other."

The word seemed to have some significance to the boy, but, slightly inebriated from the wine, Kurogane couldn't guess what. "The other what?"

"The _other,_" he said, with more emphasis.

"You mean the clone?" Fai asked sharply.

Syaoran poured himself another shot and drained it in a single gulp. _Definitely drunk, _Kurogane thought. "What about him?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't remember. They're just dreams . . . They don't mean anything."

_It's bothering him a lot more than that, if it's keeping him up. He should remember. _"Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"The other is scary enough by himself, don't you think?"

_He says "other" like it's a name. _"Why do you call him that? The Other?"

"What else am I supposed to call him? It's not like I can call him by name."

"Why not?"

"Names have great power in some places. They're not things to be handed out carelessly. If I call him by name, it'll be like acknowledging the power he has over me." He smiled bitterly, lifting his glass up to take another drink. Kurogane pushed his hand down.

"What power does he have over you?"

The boy shook his head, paling a little. Out of nowhere, he rose out of his seat. "I should go to bed."

"Sit back down." He pulled the boy's sleeve, forcing his hand back to the table. He bent down to accommodate the movement, but didn't sit. "What power does he have over you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Like hell it doesn't!"

Cold anger flashed across the kid's expression, aging his face almost a decade. "Why don't you pour me another shot and see if it'll loosen my tongue?" he demanded.

Kurogane brushed the bottle aside with the back of his hand and stood. To his surprise, the kid didn't back down. "You're right. Maybe you should go to bed."

Another flash of anger, this one somehow colder than the last. The boy held his ground a moment more, testing his boundaries, then turned and started for his room, swaying with each step. He stopped at the door, leaning against the wooden frame for support. "I don't know which is worse," the boy said, his voice calm, frigid. "The fact that one of you wants me dead, or that the other one thinks I need to be drunk to answer a question."

He stalked through the threshold, slamming the door behind him.


	28. Guilted

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fai had guilty before, but never like this. As the vibrations of the slamming door echoed in his sensitive ears, a chill swept through him, colder than a winter night in Ceres.

Beyond the thin walls, he heard Syaoran stagger across his bedroom, catching himself on the edge of his wooden dresser to avoid a nasty fall. The drawers rolled open with a loud rumble, and the whisper of fabric brushing against itself filled the quiet apartment.

Kurogane stared at the door for several seconds after it slammed shut, anger warring with shock on his face. Fai thought the ninja was going to march over to the door and knock it down, but after a few seconds, the fury faded from his eyes. He sat back down and poured himself another shot.

Fai stood there, listening to the boy crawl under the covers. Once he was settled, he laid still. _Listening? _Fai wondered, arms curling around his torso to stave off the sudden chill in the air.

"He heard," the ninja said. That was all he said, not giving any context for the remark. But both of them knew what he was referring to.

"He did hear." He sat down, hugging himself tighter. A sound emanated from the other room, almost too soft for his vampire senses: a series of short sniffs, a break in Syaoran's breathing, the tightening of fingers around the bed sheets. _Crying. I made him cry. _"I never meant for him to hear."

"No. But you still said it, and he still heard."

His chin drooped down, and he took a step toward the bedroom door. _I have to make this right, _he thought, just as a hand wrapped around his wrist. His head whipped around in surprise.

"The kid needs to sleep. It can wait till tomorrow, when he's sobered up some."

The sobs were just a little louder. Probably not loud enough for the ninja to hear, but louder than they'd been a moment ago. Fai looked back toward the closed door, then back at the ninja. There was no accusation on his face. All the accusations had been crammed into those two little words: _"He heard."_

Fai sat down, leaning one unsteady arm down on the table. He'd been pacing himself, drinking lightly in the hopes that he'd be able to assist with the ninja's quest to acquire information. Even so, the alcohol he'd had was now moving through his bloodstream, making his hands shake and his vision blur.

In the other room, the soft sobs faded into nonexistence.

Kurogane poured more wine into two of the shot glasses and handed one to him. He waved it away, miserable.

"We both fucked this up," the ninja said. "Quit staring at your feet like this is all your fault."

"He heard . . . He heard me say I wanted him dead." His voice broke. "I thought, because he never said anything . . . I thought he hadn't heard me. I convinced myself he hadn't."

"You were wrong."

"Yeah."

"On both counts."

"I know."

The ninja made a sound of annoyance. "If you're going to agonize about it, quit being so passive."

"I didn't mean for him to hear."

"No, I don't suppose you did."

"I didn't mean it, I just . . . I didn't mean it."

"I know."

Fai rested his head in his hands, closing his remaining eye. _It was never his fault. All he did was try to make things okay, and I shut him down. It wasn't his fault. _Everything seemed suddenly clearer, despite the alcohol in his system. "I didn't mean it."

The ninja sighed. "Are you going to have another drink, or not?"

He looked up at the shot glass he'd been offered, staring at the bubbling wine. After a moment, his fingers coiled around the glass and moved it to his lips.

* * *

><p>It was the first time in weeks he'd slept without nightmares.<p>

Syaoran surfaced from his slumber slowly, as if drifting to shore after floating in the ocean. _It's warm, _was his first conscious thought. He could feel the sunlight hitting his skin, warming his body. _The heating system is much better here than it was in the last apartment, _he thought, rolling over on his back and letting his eyes slide open. Minutes went by as he lay there, staring up at the pocked ceiling, imagining patterns that weren't really there.

For the first time in a long time, he felt refreshed, clearheaded.

Since the sun was already peaking through his curtains, he decided to get up and move them aside so the bright shafts could better illuminate the room. As soon as they opened, the golden glow overflowed into the small space. He stood by the window, staring out for several seconds before realizing the sun was too high in the sky. _I'm late for training, _he thought, the lingering ease of sleep fleeing from his body the second he thought it. He half-ran to the door before he remembered what had happened last night.

_Did I really say that? _he wondered, fingers hesitating above the door handle. _I wouldn't say that out loud, would I? _He tried to remember the context of the words, tried to remember what had prompted him to say that. As much alcohol as he'd had, he was surprised he remembered anything at all. _We were arguing. We were drunk, and we were arguing, right near the end. But what about before that? _He squinted, as if that would help him remember.

_I can't believe I actually said that._

His hand dropped to his side, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. His hair blocked the sunlight coming in through the window. _I need a haircut, _he thought irrelevantly.

With the angle of the sun, he could guess it was anywhere between late morning and early afternoon. _Kurogane-san didn't wake me, _he thought, feeling cold despite the sunshine on his skin. _He always wakes me up, if I'm not up in time for breakfast. _A low rumble in his stomach told them that had been a long time ago. _Why didn't he wake me? Is it because of what I said? Has he decided I'm too much a burden?_

_But you deserve it, _some small part of him whispered. _Can't even control your tongue. Why would anyone want to waste their time with you?_

"No . . . No, that's not true."

_He was right, anyway. You _did _have to be drunk to tell the truth. _

"No."

_You've been lying to them from the moment you met them. Why would they expect you to tell the truth? It's obvious why they thought they needed to get you drunk first. _

_My fault, all my fault, I have to apologize. _He stood up and walked out of his room, not giving himself time to back down.

The living room was empty.

He found himself feeling absurdly disappointed by this. _You should be relieved. Isn't that what you want? To be alone, so you don't have to face the accusations, the looks they give you? Doesn't that make things easier for you? _

_Doesn't that make the choice to leave easier? If you can steal away without anyone noticing? _He flinched away from the thought, moving over to the dining table instead of the door. He sat down for a minute, hoping that being there would jog his memory of whatever happened before things had gone south. _What did I tell them? _he wondered. _What the hell did I tell them? _

Nothing about Seishirou, he was sure. If that had been it, he could only imagine the damage control he'd be doing now. _It couldn't have been something that big. What else? My time sealed away in a tube? I already told them I was being kept prisoner. A little detail like that wouldn't make them want to get rid of me. _He realized with a start the reaction he would get if they walked in right now and saw him sitting at the table, like nothing had happened. He stood, the sound of his chair scraping against the linoleum making him wince.

_As long as they're not here right now, though . . . _he thought, moving to the fridge like a thief to a jewelry box. He plucked an apple from the bottom shelf and brought it back to the table. Before he even took a bite, his hand went still. _Sakura loves apples. I shouldn't be eating this. _

He stared at the pale green fruit a moment longer. _Why should you feel so guilty? It's not like there's an apple shortage in this world._

_It's not like you're supposed to care what the princess thinks of you._

Almost in defiance, he sank his teeth into the apple. _Enough, _he thought. _No more worrying about what anyone else thinks. If they hate you so much, there's no point in staying. You might as well go to Seishirou right now. _

He stood there for a long moment, took another bite of apple, reevaluated his options.

And left.


	29. Decided

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sakura didn't intend to follow him out; it just sort of happened.

He glanced back when she opened the door, flinching. He looked away almost immediately, rejecting her in a way her Syaoran never had.

"Syaoran-kun, where are you going?"

"I was going to check the library to see if there was anything interesting to look at," he said dully. "I'll be back in a few hours." He turned his back on her and took another step toward the elevator.

_Something's not right here, _she thought, seeing the way his shoulders sagged, hearing the edge of resignation in his voice. Her instincts weren't sharp. She'd lived a sheltered life in a palace, had lived these past few months missing most of her memories, had lost everything that had once been important to her. Where the rest of her companions had hardships and experience to go by, she had only the most basic germ of intuition.

But something wasn't _right _here. "Syaoran-kun . . . Are you leaving us?"

He stopped for a moment, as if processing the question. He must've known she wasn't referring to any temporary trip, because he didn't answer right away.

"Tell me the truth. Are you leaving?"

He turned, his face a mask of tangled emotions: regret, sorrow, pain. Beyond all that, a spark of something unidentifiable. Hesitantly, he took a step forward, approaching her as if she was a wounded animal, and he was taking care not to scare her off. "Sakura . . ."

The sound of her name coming from his lips stirred strange feelings in her chest. Suddenly, it was a little harder to breathe. Her heart fluttered behind her ribs, the same way it did when a feather merged with her body. _He called me Sakura. Just Sakura._

He took another cautious step, then a third, until they were face to face. Slowly, he lifted his hands to the side of her face. His fingertips brushed against her skin, as gentle as the wings of a butterfly. The touch wreaked havoc with the rhythm of her heart, sending the fluttering muscle into overdrive.

She wanted something, _needed _something, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

He held her face a moment more, looking at her with an expression she could neither identify nor look away from. _It's like he's trying to memorize my face, _she thought. _Like he doesn't expect to see me again._

Almost a minute passed before the intensity of his gaze faded. His fingertips lifted from her cheeks, and he took a step back. "I'm leaving," he said. The words echoed hollowly in her ears.

"Why?"

"There's something I have to do." His eyes flashed to the bland carpet under his feet, then back to her, almost as if he was struggling to come to terms with whatever he was thinking. "If there's any way for me to come back after I'm done . . . I will. But you have to promise me something."

"Syaoran-kun . . ."

"I want you to ask Kurogane-san to teach you how to use a sword. Tell him that's my last wish for you. Tell him whatever it takes to make him agree. You need to be able to protect yourself, if I don't . . ." He gulped, eyes flashing away and back to her face again. "if I don't come back."

"Where are you _going_?" she demanded.

"Away."

"No . . . You _can't_. You can't just leave me alone!"

He hushed her, touching one finger to her lips. Tears started leaking from the corners of his eyes. "Don't. Please don't, I've already decided. You're just making it more difficult. Now, promise me you'll ask. Please."

_To protect myself? So I won't be a burden on the others? _More tears flooded her eyes, blinding her. "Syaoran-kun . . ."

"Please."

Her vision cleared for a moment as the tears in her eyes slipped down her face. When her eyes shed the veil of water, everything else jumped into clarity. "You're going to Seishirou."

He winced. "Yes."

"Why?"

"It's complicated."

She believed him. She believed him because she knew no one else would. "Are you really going to come back?"

"If there's any possible way, I'll come back."

"How long . . . do you think?"

"A few months for me. I don't know how long it will be for you. You'll ask Kurogane-san to teach you?"

Sakura doubted her ability to say anything more, so she just nodded.

"Thank you," he whispered, looking at her for one long moment before turning back down the hallway. His pace picked up, until he was almost running away from her, but he stopped at the end of the hallway. "One more thing."

"Yes?" She looked up eagerly, to see his face once more before he disappeared.

He faltered visibly, choking on his words. "When the others come back . . . can you tell them something? Can you tell them I'm sorry?"

She nodded, vision blurring again. "I'll tell them."

"Thank you." He disappeared into the elevator as soon as the doors parted, leaving her behind.

* * *

><p>The soup sat uneaten on the edge of the end table, cold after an hour of sitting out. Seishirou knelt down beside the bed and rested a hand on his brother's sweltering forehead. The disease sapping Fuuma's strength wasn't contagious, but on some level, Seishirou wished he could suffer alongside his younger brother. <em>I can't, though, <em>he thought. _Not as I am now._

It had been years since Seishirou had been sick. After he'd taken Subaru's blood, his body had undergone a fundamental change that had kept him from getting sick at all. He hadn't been ill since he'd stopped aging.

"Fuuma," he murmured, nudging his brother's shoulder to wake him. The younger man didn't stir.

He picked the bowl of soup up off the table and brought it over to the kitchen sink to dump out its cold contents. The soggy noodles and soft chunks of chicken floated down the drain.

_You'll have to wake up and eat sometime, Brother, _he thought, turning on the faucet to wash down the remaining particles of soup. As he shut it off, he heard a mechanical voice coming from the metal box by the door. "You have a visitor, Seishirou-sama."

He hurried over to the box and hit the red button with the image of a phone on it. "Send them up immediately."

"Yes, sir," the voice crackled.

Hope was a treacherous emotion. When hopes were met, it gave the dangerous illusion of safety. When they weren't, they tormented the wishful thinkers who'd allowed themselves to hope in the first place. So, rather than getting antsy or excited about his visitor, he kept calm and went about his business as the elevator ascended from the lobby. He closed the door to Fuuma's room, not wanting his visitor to have to see his brother in that condition regardless of whether they were a stranger, or someone he knew. _Even if that someone is the Little Wolf. _

The elevator could be heard sliding up the shaft now. He turned toward the door, waiting for the doors to open. Too slowly, they parted to reveal his visitor.

"Syaoran-kun," he greeted the boy, smiling easily. The smiles hadn't always been this easy to maintain, but he'd had years of practice to get them right, and the result was that he had total control over his expression at all times.

The Little Wolf bowed his head and stepped out of the elevator. "I need to know something," he said, as the doors closed behind him.

"What do you want to know?"

The kid glanced back to make sure the man who'd escorted him to the apartment was gone. "People died in the apartment fire."

"Yes."

"Were you expecting that to happen? For people to die?"

"I was prepared for the eventuality, yes," he said, knowing there was no point in lying. Whatever Syaoran's decision was, he'd made it before walking through the door. "I was willing to sacrifice them to accomplish what I set out to do."

Syaoran's reaction was somewhat subdued for the response. _He expected that, then. _

"There's something else," the boy said after a moment. "Something I'm going to need from you if I go through with this."

_Qualifications. He's put some thought into this. _"And what would that be?"

"I know you only had a few months to teach the Other, back in Clow Country. I know you know a lot more than that, so . . . I want you to teach me, as much as you can given the timeframe. Teach me things I'll need to know to survive. Teach me how to fight like you."

Seishirou studied the boy for a long moment. _He's stuck with the search for those feathers this long. He's probably a lot more stubborn than he was as a child. _"You'll agree to come with me if I teach you?"

"Yes."

Seishirou stood. "Fine. We leave tomorrow morning."


	30. Tousled

Chapter Thirty

Kurogane knew something was wrong the moment he saw the princess's face. He set down the bag of flour the mage had thrust into his arms and went over to her, reacting the same way to her broken expression as he might've reacted to Tomoyo's. "What happened?"

She looked up at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Syaoran-kun is gone."

He'd learned to not panic, even in dire situations, but the news sent a ripple of disquiet through him. "Did Seishirou take him?"

She shook her head, oddly quiet.

Fai walked in just then, almost dropping the bags of groceries he'd been cradling in his hands when he saw her face. With supernatural speed, he set them down on the counter and knelt down beside Sakura's chair, looking up at her with unconcealed concern. "Sakura-chan, what happened?"

"He left. Syaoran-kun left."

_Left? _

"What do you mean, he _left_?" Kurogane demanded.

She hiccupped, losing control of herself for a moment. "He just got up and left. He didn't even take any of his stuff with him."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"To Seishirou."

_I'm going to beat the living shit out of that brat when I find him, _Kurogane thought, fury rushing through his veins.

"Why?" Fai asked, too shocked to utter a longer sentence.

"He didn't say. I tried to f-f-follow him, b-but . . ." Sobs overtook her for a few minutes, while she unsuccessfully tried to explain. "He s-s-said he'd c-come back, but n-not right away. He going t-to be g-gone until he finishes what he s-set out to d-do."

"Easy, Sakura-chan. Just let it all out."

The princess sobbed into the sorcerer's shoulder, alternating between a birdlike warble and a shuddery wail. While all this happened, Kurogane picked Souhi up from his room and plucked the white pork bun off Fai's shoulder. "Are we going to go look for him, or not?" he demanded. The others looked up at him, startled by the furious edge to his voice.

"W-wait," the princess said, struggling to compose herself. "I don't think he w-wants us to f-follow."

"So fucking what?"

She was almost calm now. "Whatever he's doing . . . I trust him. He wouldn't have left if he hadn't thought it was the best thing to do."

"The brat's a fucking traitor," he snarled back.

"No, he's . . . He's not doing anything to hurt us."

"But he didn't give an explanation for why he was going, did he?" Fai said, all too ready to distrust the boy's motives.

And for once, Kurogane agreed with him. If the kid had just up and went like that, there was no predicting what he'd do. "Manju bun, is the feather still in this world?"

"Mokona senses a feather in that direction," the creature said, pointing far beyond their apartment building.

"I'm going. Anyone else who wants to go can follow."

There was a moment when neither of the others moved. Fai stood up first, head tilted down so his hair obscured his eyes. "We'd better hurry."

Sakura looked panicked. "No! We can't go after him. He said there was something he needed to do."

Kurogane knew he had a temper, knew that expressing his anger _now _was wasteful when he could use it to cut Seishirou in half, but he still slammed his fist down on the counter. "Do you have _any _idea what kind of man Seishirou is? What kind of _danger _he presents? I would rather . . ." He took a deep breath, struggling for words through his fury. "I would rather cut off my sword arm than leave that kid with him!"

Fai glanced at him with mild surprise. "I didn't know you hated Seishirou _that _much, Kurogane."

"He's an _enemy_, you moron. Of _course _I hate him." He could _feel _the blood vessels pulsing in his head. "And traitor or not, I won't let that brat go off with him."

"But you can't!" Sakura yelled.

Kurogane knew he would regret saying it, even before the words left his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Look, I know the two of you are having issues, but I don't give a shit about what you want to do about it, because _I _am going to go fix this before it becomes a problem."

Leaving a stunned Sakura behind, he stalked out the door.

* * *

><p>"How do you do that?" Syaoran asked, watching Seishirou take the feather inside his body again. The dark-haired man had been kneeling over his brother for almost half and hour now, letting the white feather rest over the dying man's heart. Seeing one of Sakura's feathers out in the open made it difficult for Syaoran to control his impulse to snatch it up and bring it back to her.<p>

"It's not a difficult trick," Seishirou said. "I'm sure you've wondered the same thing about some of the enemies you've faced in your travels. How they can hold the feather inside them, drawing on its power, yet never actually consuming it the way your princess does . . ."

He nodded, though it hadn't been _him _that had wondered those things, it had been the Other. Up until now, there had never really been a good opportunity to ask that question.

"You'd probably be able to pick it up fairly quick," Seishirou said, bringing the feather out again. "Would you like to try?"

Syaoran recognized the offer as the man's attempt to gain his trust, but also knew that he would feel better holding onto the feather, even temporarily. _And even if it _is _just an attempt to earn your trust, at least he's willing to make an effort. _

The thought finished itself in his mind, but he chose to pretend he didn't think it. _After all, no one else made an effort to talk to me. _"I'd like to learn," he said.

Seishirou grinned and rose to his feet, his black cloak billowing out around him as he moved. The graceful motions made him a bit uneasy, though he couldn't think of why that was.

"It's not much different from absorbing a blow in a fight. Less painful, but you have to meet it head on, without hesitation. Given your affinity with the princess, you should be able to absorb it easily enough." He held the feather out. Syaoran took a deep breath, steeling his body. Seishirou moved the feather towards him, slowly, as if to avoid startling him. Syaoran focused, thinking about Sakura in the hopes that the feather would join more willingly with him if he acknowledged her existence.

It was almost too easy. A shiver rocked his spine as the tendrils of magic spread from his chest to the rest of his body. Shortly after, he felt a great rush of energy, as if the magic he had in his body had doubled in volume. It was at once an uncomfortable pressure and an empowering sensation. He drew in a deep breath. "Wow."

"You see why the feathers are so in demand."

The painful pressure faded as his body acclimated to the more powerful magic. "I feel so . . . It's like in the country with the Kudan, but even stronger."

Seishirou's eyebrows shot up into his hairline for a moment. "You've been to the Hanshin Republic?"

He nodded. "It was the first country I went you after I met Yuuko-san. I . . ." He trailed off.

"You what?"

"I . . . I guess I wasn't really there. I mean, that was back when the Other was traveling with Sakura."

For once, his old teacher wasn't grinning. "You mean your clone?"

He nodded.

A gentle hand came down on his head to tousle his hair. His eyes flashed up.

"You don't have to worry about differentiating between those memories with me," Seishirou told him. "That clone shared a soul with you. Whatever differences there are now, you have a right to those memories, just like he did."

It was strange how that handful of words shifted his perspective so drastically. Spending time with his old mentor was a prospect he had both looked forward to and dreaded. He'd been excited, just a little bit, at the thought of getting away from the others, but scared of the ramifications going with Seishirou would cause.

But it had been so long since anyone had spoken to him like he was a person. It had been so long since anyone had done something so obviously accepting as tousling his hair, or smiling at him like that. It should've felt strange that the affection was coming from someone he'd considered a villain for the past few months, but the gesture looked so easy coming from the older man, so unconditionally accepting, he couldn't even think of Seishirou as an enemy.

"I . . . Thank you." The words came out in a whisper, and he had to close his eyes to fight against the tears trying to break free.

Seishirou's head snapped up suddenly, his hand coming free from Syaoran's hair. "Your friends are here."

Syaoran glanced over to the elevator, knowing that was the only way to get up to this room. After a moment, he heard the faint groan of the cables as the metal box rose up to their level. "What should I do?" he asked.

"Hide with Fuuma. Now."

"The feather—"

"_Now_, Little Wolf."

He hesitated a moment longer, then ran into Fuuma's bedroom, locking the door behind him.


	31. Battled

Chapter Thirty-One

Something about the magic had shifted since he'd last met Seishirou, and it unnerved him. As they neared the top of the elevator, the pit in his stomach deepened, until it was felt large enough to swallow him up whole. He shivered.

"Ready, mage?" Kurogane asked him. Fai swallowed back the lump rising in his throat and allowed his claws to elongate again. Downstairs, the mere threat of his natural weapons had been enough to scare away the attendant in the elevator. Fai just wished it would be enough to keep their enemy at bay. "Ready."

The elevator lurched to a halt, and panic jolted through him. What if the attendant had told someone to stop the elevator? How were they going to reach Syaoran in time? Before his sickening dread could spread any further than that, the doors parted.

A heartbeat later, they were both out of the confined space and inside Seishirou's apartment.

"Ah, what a surprise," the dark haired man said, grinning. Before he could say anything else, the tip of Kurogane's sword poked the bottom of his chin.

"Where's the kid?" the ninja demanded.

Fai was not much given to fear, but the way the ninja said the words sent a shudder down his back.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific," Seishirou replied, unfazed by the sword at his throat.

"Syaoran. Where is he?"

"Mm, not here. I can keep an out for him, if you want. Just one eye, though." He gave a conspiratorial wink with his glass eye.

_Something's changed since we last saw him, _Fai thought. _His magic isn't as strong as it was before. Has he left the feather somewhere else? _That would only make sense if he'd given it up to fuel some other source. _But what? _Fai wondered, ignoring the weakened waves of magic coming off Seishirou and trying to pinpoint another magical source. After so many months of traveling, he'd gotten used to the gentle vibrations that came off Sakura's feathers, and he could sense one very close, definitely somewhere in the apartment. But the magic signature was distorted, somehow, as if filtered through another source.

Fai pinpointed the location. "The feather's in that room," he said, pointing to the door across the living room. Kurogane glanced back at him, then edged toward the door, keeping the tip of his sword pointed at Seishirou.

"You aren't going in there," Seishirou said, losing his grin.

"The hell I'm not!"

Faster than either of them could react, the dark-haired man pulled a sword out of thin air and used it to knock Souhi out of the way. Kurogane reacted to the sudden shift, bringing his sword around in an attempt to chop off Seishirou's arm. The man parried the blow, moving fast.

_Too fast, _Fai thought. _It's not natural. _

Kurogane seemed to recognize the unnatural speed and grace, adjusting his strategy accordingly. He shuffled back half a step, compensating for the other man's superior range. Seishirou's sword was half again the length of Souhi, probably something meant to be used to decapitate enemies from horseback, rather than face people in single combat. Fai recalled seeing one in the six months they'd spent in . . . _Was it Shura or Shara? _he wondered idly. He could never remember.

The _clang _of steel striking steel jarred him out of his ponderings, and he returned his attention to the fight, feeling his fingernails lengthen as he looked for an opening. The two sword-masters fought with unnatural intensity, exchanging blows as fast as his sharpened eyesight could follow.

He saw Seishirou miss a block. His blade, black as a moonless night, rose up to deflect most of Souhi's force, but as the metal edges slid apart, Kurogane's sword carved a deep gash in Seishirou's arm. Crimson droplets sprung from the cut, staining the carpet beneath their feet and scraping over the pale white bone of Seishirou's arm

"Nicely done," Seishirou said in a pause where their swords got caught on each other. The exposed bones seemed not to affect his strength at all.

"Where's the boy?" Kurogane demanded.

_So focused, _Fai thought. _And not just because he wants to defeat Seishirou. _

The blades slid apart, and the rapid exchange of blows resumed. Fai watched the black edge of Seishirou's blade tear through the air, even faster than it had been moving a moment ago. Kurogane jerked back, evading this strike only by virtue of reflex.

_He's moving too fast, _Fai thought, analyzing the dark-haired man's movements. They were smooth, effortless despite the inhuman speed and injuries. _It's not natural. He's moving . . . He's moving as fast as _I _can. _

In the other room, the feather's magic shifted. Fai's eyes darted to the door long enough for Seishirou's sword to cut the ninja. A moment later, the sweet smell of Kurogane's blood filled his nose, and everything else in the world ceased to matter.

_No! This isn't the time. _Fai held his breath, trying to focus around the predatory instincts the scent evoked in his mind. His fingernails continued to grow, tapering down to dagger-like points. He had to refocus his attention on something else. _Anything _else.

Magic thrummed from beyond the door. Fai slipped around the preoccupied fighters, receiving a sharp glance from Seishirou as he moved by. Souhi came down across the dark-haired man's face, ripping it open from ear to chin. The skin split and poured blood, like a macabre fountain. Fai looked away. _Don't think about the blood, _he told himself. _You have a job to do._

"Get back from there!" Seishirou growled, not looking away from his opponent this time. The entire left half of his face seemed to be smeared in red.

Fai reached the door. His clawed hands coiled awkwardly around the knob, almost ripping it off the door as he yanked it open. _Have to get away from the blood . . . _

He staggered inside, eyes shut, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Fai-san?" came a startled voice.

Fai didn't turn, still recovering from the overpowering fragrance of Kurogane's blood. In that confined space, under such stressful conditions, his desire for blood had spiked to an unprecedented level. He hadn't just wanted it. He'd needed it. _If that's going to happen every time he gets hurt in a fight, I'm not going to be much use. _

He heard Syaoran-kun's foot hit the carpet as he retreated a step. The boy must've run into something, because Fai heard the noise of a collision. _With what? A dresser? An end table? _For a moment, Fai wished his vampire senses weren't so precise. Without even trying, his new senses told him things he didn't care to know. _His heart is beating faster, and I can smell the adrenaline coming off him. He's scared._

The constant thrum of magic was starting to wear on his mind, the oscillating pressure waves hitting his eardrums without registering any sound. His forehead wrinkled. _It's been a long time since I've felt something so powerful. Did he get Seishirou to leave the princess's feather with him?_

The thought relieved him somewhat. If Syaoran had only been doing this to get the feather from his old teacher, that meant he wasn't a traitor after all. _Kurogane will be happy to hear it. _

Beyond the door, the sounds of a struggle went on. Fai heard someone hit the wall across the living room, heard the resulting scrape of a picture frame sliding down the sheetrock. A beat later, it hit the floor, the frame splintering as the glass protecting the picture shattered. _So many sounds. So much background noise. _

Behind him, Syaoran's breathing dissolved into ragged, shaky gasps. "Don't. Get out of here, this is my decision."

Fai turned slowly, opening his eyes to take in the room. The walls were mostly undecorated, unlike the living room, and he suspected this chamber didn't get used often. As he spun around, he caught sight of a pallid figure lying under pristine white sheets. _Fuuma? _he realized with a jolt. They'd run into Fuuma in Tokyo a few weeks ago. _How did his condition deteriorate so fast? _

He turned, at last, to look at Syaoran, hoping for some explanation. When his eye locked on to Syaoran's face, however, all those concerns fled from his mind. Everything in the world ceased to exist, as it had in the other room, when Seishirou had cut Kurogane. Only this time, Fai couldn't ignore the overpowering fixation.

He had finally met someone with more magical power than him, and his body sprang forward to do the only thing it could do under the circumstances.

Syaoran recoiled, panic shooting across his teenage face as the approaching figure. Before he could react any further than that, though, Fai's elongated claws buried themselves six inches into the boy's chest, piercing his heart in five places.


	32. Bloodied

Chapter Thirty-Two

Seishirou heard the fibers of Syaoran's cotton shirt ripping apart, heard the unmistakable sound of something sharp being driven through flesh, but the most troubling thing in that moment was what he _didn't _hear.

_Four heartbeats, _he thought, mind racing so fast that, if the words had been spoken, they would've gone by too rapidly to be understood. _One ninja, one mage, Fuuma, and me._

He heard the distinct whistle of a blade cleaving through the air, and remembered he was in the middle of a fight. Rather than parrying the blow, he dodged backward, his shoulder hitting the wall hard enough to crack the sheetrock. He used that momentum to push his body toward the door.

His opponent, the dark-haired ninja who'd stormed in here looking for the Little Wolf, leapt forward, a snarl on his lips. Seishirou brought his blade—named "Lion's Bane," in the tongue of old Azarath—around, knocking the ninja's sword away with superhuman force. There was no time for games now, no time to hold back his strength in favor of a fair fight.

Little Wolf was dying.

"Hey, where are you going?" the ninja demanded, fury accenting every word. Seishirou ignored the man, whipping around the corner and flinging himself into Fuuma's room. Horror washed through him as he took in the scene before him.

Considering the injury, there was remarkably little blood on the floor. The boy's heart had stopped almost instantly when the magician's had buried his claws in the muscle. Syaoran's face was frozen in a mask of shock, his head tilted up toward the mage as the blood flow in his body abruptly stopped. The mage was still holding onto the boy, one hand supporting him by the shoulder, the other impaling him. The tips of the mage's fingernails stuck out of Syaoran's back.

Seishirou had seen a lot of violence in his travels, killed people who'd gotten in his way, but this disaster touched him in a way the other's hadn't. He lurched forward, feeling slow despite the inhuman speed at which his body moved. "Little Wolf!"

The blond vampire just seemed to be realizing what he'd done. With an almost childlike look of disbelief, he pulled his hand out of Syaoran's chest, allowing a gush of blood to pour out of the boy. Seishirou rushed forward, passing the vampire as he ran to catch Syaoran. _There's still time, _he told himself. _The flesh hasn't started to decay. _

Viscous fluid from the dimensional sea wrapped around his body, and the boy's. From the corner of his good eye, he saw the shifting globes wrap around his brother, encasing his diseased body in much the same fashion. As he turned his head away from his brother, Seishirou saw the dark-skinned ninja burst into the room, saw the look of shock on the warrior's face as he drew the same conclusions that had flitted through his own mind, took in the same gruesome scene he'd witnessed for himself. "What the hell?" the ninja asked, raising one hand as if to help Syaoran. Seishirou clutched the boy closer to his chest, wishing the globules of fluid would take them away faster. He had to go _now, _if the Little Wolf was going to survive.

He caught one final glance of his brother before the three of them were swallowed up by the dimensional sea.

* * *

><p>He did not panic. He did not cry. He did not yell. It was not in his nature to do these things in the first place, and his years as Tomoyo's most faithful protector had only cemented that pattern in his reactions. So, as the dark-haired bastard fled from this world with the boy in his arms, Kurogane did not panic or cry or yell. He lost his temper.<p>

"What the _hell_!" he snarled, snatching the vampire by the collar and driving his fist into the blond man's nose. A loud crack resonated through the room. "What the _hell _did you _do_?"

Fai didn't answer. Fluid dripped from his nose, the same crimson color as the blood glistening on his fingernails. Kurogane hit him again, knocking the mage's head back into the wall.

Everything around him was tinged red, like he had a thin coating of blood over his eyes. Red everywhere, splattered across the carpet, dripping slowly down the vampire's claws. Blood that was gone from this world now, dripping down the dead kid's shirt in some other dimension. Kurogane's fist slammed into Fai's jaw, resulting in another sharp snap, but no more red than there already was. "What did you . . . What did you . . ." He faltered, loosing another brutal punch. This time, the crack came as much from his knuckles as it did from Fai's face.

"I killed him," the magician whispered, his single eye far, far away.

This time, Kurogane punched him in the stomach. The vampire flinched, but otherwise didn't react. His face was starting to swell, becoming discolored.

A long, long time ago, Kurogane had watched someone stick a sword through his mother's heart, and gone into a wild rage, slaying demons without restraint. But there were no demons to kill here, not now that Seishirou had taken off.

No demons except the one standing, blank-faced and bruised, in front of him. The ninja brought his broken hand around again, striking the center of a bruise. A low whimper broke free of the mage's throat, and Kurogane punched him again, out of spite.

"_I killed him." _The confession echoed around in his head, the same confession Seishirou had given him after killing the boy in Outo. But, Syaoran hadn't really been _dead _then, not for real.

Now he was.

For real.

"I didn't . . . I didn't mean to . . ." Fai whispered, voice distorted because of the swelling.

"Shut up!" There was a loud _snap _as Kurogane struck the gold-haired man again. "Shut the fuck up!"

He had thought he'd reached the limit of his anger earlier today, when he'd found out the kid had gone off to meet with the enemy. How that outburst paled in comparison to the raw fury burning in his veins now . . . How little he cared that his apprentice was a traitor. How pathetic he felt for letting this happen.

The pain in his hand was starting to break up his concentration. He let go of the magician's shirt and stepped back, breathing hard, trying to gain some semblance of control. Such displays of anger, however justified, were uncivilized, unnecessary. He could kill half a dozen men in a second, but he could do it just as well calm. Anger was not a prerequisite to murder. If he didn't have a clear head, he wouldn't be able to do anything productive.

And besides, he wanted the mage alive so he could hit him again later.

"I didn't mean to . . ." Fai whispered.

"_Shut up!_"

_Back under control, _he told himself. _Get back under control before you do something stupid. _

Fai's eye had shifted back to its normal blue color, and his claws had retracted. Except for the blood coating his fingertips, and his paper-white skin tone, he looked almost normal.

The red tint had almost disappeared from Kurogane's vision. His thoughts turned inward. _I should woken him up, like always. He wouldn't have had a chance to come here if I hadn't ignored him after last night. _Last night seemed like a distant dream now, a much happier dream than this one. _It was my fault he left. He felt so horrible, because he thought we didn't trust him._

_And did you? No. You never once gave him the opportunity to earn your trust, you just worked him to the point of exhaustion in the hopes he'd get better. You never once treated him like he deserved your trust._

His breathing hitched. A dull ache sprouted in the back of his throat, like he was catching a cold. For just a moment, his vision blurred.

_He wanted you to trust him. He went out of his way to earn it. If you'd believed in him, just once, he wouldn't have needed to go to Seishirou. _The self-imposed accusations stabbed at him, sharper than the point of a sword. Once again, he felt a strange break in his breathing. _What's happening to me? _

"Kurogane . . . You're . . ."

_My apprentice is dead, _he thought numbly as his vision blurred again. The pain in his throat sharpened. "What?" he demanded hoarsely, glaring down at the fuzzy lines of the mage's swollen face.

Sounding like someone who'd just witnessed a car accident, Fai said, "You're crying."


	33. Transformed

Chapter Thirty-Three

The ninja hit him again, but Fai was too numb to feel the blow. He blinked.

"Don't be stupid," Kurogane snarled, his breath hitching again. He didn't seem to realize what was happening to him. Fai hadn't either, for a moment, too stunned by the tears to really process what they were.

_How much have I hurt all of them? _he wondered, watching the ninja's face with a sort of morbid fascination. Kurogane's anger seemed to give off a radiant heat, pouring into the room, but the trails of saltwater running down his face were so at odds with Fai's expectations that it took him almost a minute to organize his thoughts.

"I didn't mean to . . . It was the curse," Fai whispered, flinching when the ninja glared at him.

A moment later, a look of exasperation flitted across Kurogane's face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I . . ." He swallowed thickly. _And I criticized Syaoran for keeping secrets, _he thought. "It was a curse. A long time ago, a curse was placed on me, one that forced me to kill the first person with greater magic than mine. I thought . . ." This time, his own breathing hitched. _It's been a long time since I've cried, too. _"Syaoran had one of the feathers, maybe trying to keep it away from Seishirou, I don't know . . . It more than doubled his magic power. Even so, if my magic power wasn't halved like this, I wouldn't have been compelled to kill him. It just never occurred to me that something like this would happen."

The ninja was staring at him. Some of the fury had faded from his crimson eyes, letting the other emotions bleed out. Having lived as long as he had, Fai recognized the look of grief etched into his features.

"If anyone, I might've expected Sakura-chan to excel far enough to surpass my magical power. By that time, I might've been prepared, might've split off from the group. But I never . . ." His voice wavered. "I never meant to kill Syaoran, not even after . . ."

"Enough," the ninja said softly, the back of his hand coming across his moistened face in an almost casual gesture. But Fai knew he was wiping away the tears. Seeing the ninja show sorrow instead of pure rage was rather like a child seeing their parents weep for the first time.

"I'm sorry," Fai whispered.

Kurogane said nothing for a long moment, regaining control of himself. "There's no way we can follow them, wherever they are. We have to go back to the princess."

Fai winced. "She'll be distraught."

"Yeah, well . . . So am I." He didn't sound distraught, though, not anymore. Just weary. The ninja extended a hand out to him. Fai took it and allowed the dark-haired man to pull him to his feet. His jaw and nose hurt fiercely, but not quite so bad as it should have. _Rapid healing. Mild response to pain. Superhuman abilities. _He thought of the fight, how Kurogane's sword had bared Seishirou's flesh to the bone, remembering the man's rapid attacks, the ease of movement even after the brutal cut.

"Did you notice anything about Seishirou?" Fai asked, his voice still thick with guilt. "Anything strange about the way he moved?"

"Yeah. He moves like you do."

_Then it's not just me. _"Do you think he's . . ."

Kurogane nodded. "I do."

Fai said nothing else, just nodded back. _It has to be, _he thought. _That's the only explanation._

* * *

><p>Seishirou felt the impact with the ground, but he didn't bother to take stock of his surroundings. He channeled his magic through the device in his eye to call the witch.<p>

She was ready for him. Whether she'd seen the disaster as it had unfolded or just happened to be sitting nearby her black communication creature, he couldn't be sure. "Is it time?" she asked.

"Yes. I have the payment."

She blinked, a frustratingly slow movement, then nodded. "I will take it later, when you're done." Her image disappeared from existence, and a sharp pain jolted through the flesh around his glass eye. A moment later, a glowing bulb flew free of the magic eye and came down on the ground, jingling as it moved. Seishirou snatched it up and rested it over the boy's chest while he worked.

The bulb, as Yuuko had explained it two weeks ago when he'd made the deal, would keep Syaoran's body hovering between life and death for a limited time. Seishirou only hoped he could repair the damage before the glowing artifact stopped working and keep the boy's brain from dying.

The cut in his wrist was still bleeding profusely, not yet healed. Seishirou moved his bleeding arm over the boy's mouth and allowed the blood to drip down between the boy's lips. The Little Wolf writhed, like an animal caught up in a wire fence. "Drink," Seishirou commanded, hoping some semblance of consciousness remained in the boy's oxygen-deprived brain. Syaoran kept struggling, almost knocking the magic sphere away from his heart. Seishirou moved his hand over the sphere, holding it to Syaoran's chest. It was the only thing making his punctured heart beat.

"Drink, Little Wolf," he murmured, pressing his bleeding wrist down so his blood trickled down Syaoran's throat. His frantic struggles redoubled, and a shrill scream pierced the air. "You trusted me once, trust me now."

His struggles eased a bit, and he drank deeper, tears streaming from his eyes as the foreign blood worked its way through his system, healing his damaged heart. Seishirou held him down until the glow faded from the magical bulb. When Syaoran continued to writhe in pain, he felt a pang of relief. "That was close," he whispered to himself, knowing his charge was probably too far into the transformation to make sense of his words.

Becoming a vampire was the most painful experience Seishirou had ever known, and he hated himself for forcing it on the boy. There really was no other option, though. The dream-seer he'd met in Piffle World had given him the forewarning to prepare for this disaster, but he had not expected everyone to cut it so close. _Another minute and he would've been dead. _

The struggles of a moment ago had been an unconscious reaction to the vampire blood in his system, but now, Syaoran woke. A scream tore free of his throat, and his hand clutched his chest, where the blood knitted the cardiac muscle back together. From what Seishirou had studied of vampires, the most painful parts of the transformation tended to culminate around fresh injuries. The screams grated on Seishirou's sensitive eardrums, and he held his hands over his ears, trying to shut them out.

When that didn't work, he turned to Fuuma. His brother looked almost like a corpse, sprawled across the ground in the position he'd fallen in. Seishirou quickly moved him into a more comfortable position, laying his cloak down on the ground so the dirt wouldn't steal Fuuma's body heat quite so readily. These little actions failed to distract him from the howls of the Little Wolf.

_Gods, why can't the transformation go any faster? _he wondered, shaking his head. He looked around, assessing his situation now that the most dire concerns were out of the way. They seemed to have landed in a jungle of some sort, not unlike many he'd seen in his travels. Given the way the boy was screaming, it was lucky they were far from civilization. An interruption now would be inconvenient at best and fatal at worst. New dimensions were not always kind to their visitors.

_We'll have to find our own food, _he thought, looking at Fuuma. _Hopefully, there will be people within walking distance. If not, though . . . _His eye slid back to the boy, sobbing as the foreign blood shred apart his body cells and rebuilt them. Once he got through the worst phase of the transition, he'd need to feed, and the only human within biting distance was Fuuma.

Seishirou moved to the boy's side and rested one hand on Syaoran's forehead. His wrist, pouring blood just a few minutes ago, had almost completely healed, though there was still some fluid that hadn't gotten into the boy's mouth. "Sorry about this," he murmured as the boy whimpered. "It was the only way to keep you alive."

The boy's back arched, and another grating scream clawed its way up his throat. A moment later, the screech doubled in volume, a sure sign that the transformation was near its end. Seishirou held him down so he wouldn't injure himself flailing around. Almost a minute passed, until his arms started to ache. In the final moments of the transformation, Syaoran's whole body jerked, the movement fierce enough to throw Seishirou back. The boy shot to his feet, retreating until his back pressed against the trunk of a jungle tree.

Seishirou looked up to see a pair of hungry gold eyes staring back at him.


	34. Sensed

Chapter Thirty-Four

Everything blurred together in a flurry of sensation. The light filtering through the leaves stabbed at his eyes like daggers. The chattering birds were so loud he felt like the sound was going to puncture his eardrums. The air currents raised the hairs on his arms as they ran along his skin, hot and humid and almost painful to his sensitive nerves. But all those pains were secondary to the agony in his gums, the fiery stabbing pain of his teeth changing, roots digging deeper into his flesh. Tears burned in his eyes, barely obscuring his sharpened vision.

"Easy," someone said. Syaoran could tell the word was meant to be a whisper, but it assaulted his eardrums with its volume and drove him half-mad with fresh pain. "You're still acclimating to your new body. It'll ease up in a minute."

His head throbbed, as if every word had been an explosion next to his ears. The pain of his current situation and the remembered agony of a moment ago tangled his thoughts, stripping him of his rational mind. The only thing he could follow was his instinct, and it was telling him to attack, to kill the man who'd done this to him. Claws erupted from the ends of his fingers, a sharp but short pain, and moved automatically to tear out the throat of the speaker.

Before he could, hands wrapped around both his wrists and twisted him around. A foot planted itself between his shoulder blades, bearing down and keeping him from turning. He hissed, then flinched at the too-loud sound.

"Syaoran, calm down. You've just survived a very traumatic injury, but you need to _calm down._"

His rational mind was finally working well enough for him to remember who the voice belonged to. _How did Seishirou get me out of there? _he wondered, the longest string of coherent thoughts he'd had since the searing agony of a few moments ago. Humiliating tears ran down his cheeks. He felt every tiny drop as they rolled down his face, felt the saltwater sticking to his skin, felt the subtle temperature difference between the hot tears in the corners of his eyes and the lukewarm tears on the edge of his chin. _Too much, _he thought. _I can't think._

"You're transitioning well, just stay calm."

"Hurts . . ." he whispered through his raw throat. The pain seemed too intense, given that he'd only just started crying, but _everything _seemed too intense. He could feel the fibers of his torn shirt, some crusted with drying blood, others still relatively in tact.

"I know it does. It'll be over in another minute or so, just stay still."

The pain was almost gone from his body, resolving to a dull ache everywhere except for his gums. He could feel the taste of iron on his tongue, but it didn't taste the way blood usually did when he licked one of his cuts. It tasted almost appetizing, like something he'd want to drink while rereading his favorite books. But even so, it wasn't the _right _flavor. It was something less than that, a cheap imitation of a well-loved dish. His body needed something, something with that coppery taste, something stronger than his own blood, leaking from his gums onto his tongue.

As the pain faded, his senses became more focused. For the first time, he realized he could _smell _everything around him, and that everything had a unique smell. The roots had a different smell to them than the topsoil, and the moss had a stronger smell than the emerald leaves above him. Something he'd so blandly categorized as the smell of nature suddenly became a complex web of sensations, a thousand new experiences, all flooding in at once.

There was one smell that dominated all the rest, a smell similar to the light, metallic taste he'd experienced a moment ago, but so much more alluring. His mouth started to water. _What is that? _he wondered.

Seishirou sighed loudly. Or maybe it wasn't loud, it just seemed loud, like everything else. Once Syaoran concentrated on his breathing, he realized he could hear each breath as it moved in and out of his lungs.

He was distracted again by the succulent fragrance. "What is that smell?" he asked.

"It's blood, and you can't have any yet."

The words confused him, so at odds they were with the image of food he'd had in mind. _Blood, it can't be blood, blood doesn't smell this good. It must be something else. _

Slowly, though, his rational mind was coming back to him. _It smells a little like metal, though. A little bit like blood used to smell before . . . What happened to me? Something must've happened, to make me like this. But what am I? _

_And why does blood smell so appetizing now?_

"If I let you go, will you sit still and let me explain?" Seishirou asked. Syaoran took a minute to ponder the question, not sure he'd be able to control himself if he caught sight of whatever was giving off that aroma, blood or not. After a moment, he decided he could probably endure the temptation.

"I'll sit still."

Seishirou released his arms, which he flung out reflexively to keep himself from falling. He focused on shutting out his sharpened senses and turned to his old teacher, sitting up. "So what happened?"

"How much do you remember of the what happened before you woke up here?"

Syaoran tried to focus through the sensory overload, tracking his thoughts backwards. Before waking up, he remembered the searing agony, the thick, garbled murmur of his pulse in his ears. There was a blank spot between that and their apparent departure; they clearly weren't in Infinity anymore. Dwelling on the blank space, he tried to reason through what had most likely happened. He guessed Seishirou had used his magic eye to transport them away. From there, he'd likely given him vampire blood to facilitate the transformation. That realization jolted him out of his ponderings. "Seishirou-san, you're a vampire?"

The dark-haired man nodded patiently. "Didn't you notice? I haven't aged a day since I met you in Clow."

Syaoran blinked. He'd _noticed_, but at the time, he'd been preoccupied. There had been so much going on that he hadn't had time to dwell on that insignificant detail more than a few seconds, not long enough to come to the obvious conclusion. Now it seemed like a glaring oversight. "For how long?"

"Since long before I met you," Seishirou murmured. "Way back, when I met Subaru."

Syaoran vaguely remembered Subaru from Tokyo. Though he'd spent much more time around Subaru's twin, Kamui, he'd seen enough of the vampire to know he feared Seishirou. "But . . . Why are you still hunting them?"

"Vampire blood is a valuable commodity. The blood of natural-born vampires even more so."

"But _why_?" he asked, annoyed with his teacher's cryptic tendencies.

"To sell to Yuuko, in the event I needed something else from her. I don't know where it goes from there."

Syaoran decided he didn't want to think about it too much. "Okay, so you're a vampire, and you're hunting vampires, and you've changed me into a vampire . . . Why?"

"Think further back. What was the last thing that happened to you in Infinity?"

He almost rolled his eyes, certain that if anything particularly remarkable had happened in Infinity—

Oh.

_Oh._

He blinked. _How did I not remember that? _"Did that . . . Did Fai-san really . . ." He lifted a hand to the hole in his shirt, feeling the crusty fibers with his fingertips. He felt almost disconnected from the sensation. Numb.

Seishirou nodded. "It was a very near thing. Your heart even stopped beating for a time."

Panic shot through him, a much stronger feeling than he was used to. In the time it took a human to blink, he was standing upright, spine rigid. "That's impossible. He would never . . . Kurogane-san would never allow it."

"You hesitated," Seishirou said, his tone clinical, as if he was merely stating a fact. But the words held all the accusation. Syaoran's eyes dropped to his feet, where his attention was momentarily absorbed by the tiny rips and tears and spots of mud on the leather.

"They would never hurt me," he whispered.

"But they did. The mage ran his claws through your heart, and the ninja let it happen. I was the only one who took care of you when your life was at stake. I was the only one with the power to keep you from truly dying." His voice softened a bit. "I know this will be hard for you, Little Wolf, but you have to accept the fact that any loyalty you had for them was founded on their manipulation, not any sort of affection for you. I, on the other hand, care for your well-being almost as much as I do for my brother's. I trust you, I will always trust you, no matter what you do, or what they say about you."

_He trusts me?_ _No matter what? _A shudder ran down his back, but not one of discomfort or fear. A shudder of relief. "Really? You really do?"

Seishirou nodded. "Absolutely."


	35. Explained

Chapter Thirty-Five

"You must be thirsty," Seishirou said at a break in the conversation. At the mention of his newfound thirst, Syaoran's curiosity quailed. Suddenly, the rich, metallic scent he'd caught before was overpowering. More attuned to his new senses now, he was able to pinpoint the source: Fuuma. He could almost see the blood vessels pulsing with every heartbeat, could almost see the red fluid moving under the man's pallid skin. His mouth started to water.

"_No_," Seishirou said. Syaoran glanced back, instantly regretting his lack of self-control. He had gone hungry in his life, before Fujitaka had found him, but he had never stooped to stealing food. As the memory occurred to him, he realized that was exactly what he'd _have _to do to survive. He shivered.

"Am I going to be like this forever? This . . . out of control?"

His teacher rested one hand on his head, in a gesture of comfort. "It'll get easier, but right now, we need to hunt."

_Hunt. We're going to go out there and rip someone's throat out and . . . _He shuddered again. "Are we going to leave Fuuma?"

Seishirou nodded. _It must be important then, _Syaoran thought, eyes sliding over to the unconscious man. _Maybe I'll die if I don't get blood soon. _

He followed the dark-haired man through the jungle, moving easily through the thick undergrowth. He supposed he'd been aware becoming a vampire made one more graceful, having seen Fai move with such ease after his transformation, but he hadn't thought the difference would be this pronounced. It was just like walking across flat land. His body moved automatically, and after a while, he no longer felt the need to look down to watch for obstacles. His feet recognized where it was safe to walk and where it wasn't.

After a while, Syaoran became aware of the fatigue in his muscles. It was a familiar feeling, after weeks of doing drills with Kurogane, but it seemed out of place. _Maybe it's from the transformation. It hurt so much in the beginning, maybe I'm just sore now. _

The feeling persisted, until walking became an effort again. Twice, Seishirou's arm shot out to keep him from falling. "Don't worry, Little Wolf. We're getting close."

_Close, _he thought, clinging to the word, knowing it promised relief from the deep ache in his muscles, the painful void in his stomach.

New smells leaked in through his nose. He identified the smoke of a campfire, and the scent of stagnant water. A few steps more, and he heard the shuffle of bare feet against the dirt, of subdued murmurs around a crackling fire. "Stay here," Seishirou told him, lifting his arm to block his passage. Syaoran glanced up, confused. "I'll bring something back for you. You can't walk into a village with claws like that."

Seishirou left him there, looking at the elongated claws that had sprouted from his fingertips. They didn't _look _like claws, at least not what he would've identified as claws before now. They looked like deformed fingernails, too long to make sense on his short fingers. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at them.

It took Seishirou almost twenty minutes to come back, twenty minutes in which Syaoran endured the growing ache in his muscles. Even the realization that there were two sets of footsteps returning instead of just one couldn't distract him from the pain.

"My friend is right this way," Seishirou was saying. "I don't know if his ankle is just sprained, or broken, but I didn't want to make him walk on it."

"That's fine," a woman's voice replied. The sound of voice was familiar, but he wasn't sure why. He laid down, pretending to nurse an injured leg.

The footsteps were closer. He could pick out differences between them. Seishirou moved in almost total silence, every bit the natural predator. The woman's footsteps were much louder, unaccountably clumsy given how much practice she must've had walking through this jungle. Syaoran focused on the sounds of their passage, trying to push the pain out of his mind.

"Ah, there he is," Seishirou said as they arrived. The woman gasped.

"What is he?" she demanded. Syaoran glanced up, realizing how his new claws must have horrified her. Before he could apologize, he realized why her voice had sounded so familiar.

"Souma-san?"

* * *

><p>With blood-spattered clothes, walking through the streets of Infinity had been awkward enough. But now, they faced an even more awkward situation.<p>

Kurogane stood in front of their apartment door, waiting for the mage to regain his composure. "I can't," Fai eventually whispered. "I can't tell her."

"Get over it," he said, biting back the fury threatening to break through his control. His apprentice was dead, their enemy had escaped, and now they had to go in and tell the princess everything that had happened in the past hour.

"She'll hate me."

"Yeah, probably."

The mage glanced up, looking like he was in physical pain. Even in the short period of time it had taken them to walk from Seishirou's apartment back to this one, the vampire's injuries had started healing. The swelling was going down, and the bones were realigning, becoming more like their original shape every minute.

The ninja didn't feel guilty in the least. Not about that, anyway.

The mage had regained control of himself. Kurogane pushed the door open and walked inside.

The princess shot out of her seat at their entrance, a look of alarm on her face. "What happened? Is Syaoran—"

He lifted a hand, palm facing out, to stop her. "Sit down."

The panic in her eyes intensified. "He's okay, isn't he?" When she saw the look on his face, the blood drained out of her face. "Is he . . . Is he at the hospital? Is he going to be okay?"

The magician slipped in through the door, moving like a ghost. Sakura noticed the discolorations on his face and gasped. "What happened to you?"

Fai gave her a broken smile, which promptly died on his lips. "It's nothing."

Kurogane turned to the mage. "Tell her."

The vampire walked over to the dinner table and took the princess's hand. His claws had retracted a long time ago, making him look less of a monster, but Kurogane noticed he offered up his left hand, instead of his right. _The one that's not spattered with blood, _he thought.

"We found Seishirou's apartment," the mage began, hesitating over every word. "Syaoran-kun was there."

The princess's fingers tightened around the magician's hand.

"It was . . . bad. Kurogane took on Seishirou. It seemed like a relatively even fight . . ."

"Just say it already," Kurogane hissed, crossing his arms in front of him. Waiting to hear the words again plucked at his already stressed nerves.

The vampire hesitated again. His breath shook over the next few words. "Syaoran-kun was in one of the bedrooms. He had your feather. I think he was trying to get it away from Seishirou long enough to bring it back here."

Kurogane focused on the princess's reactions in an attempt not to listen to the mage. Her face was almost as pale now as Fai's usually was, and the hand that wasn't being held was clenched into a tight fist on the table.

"I never told you this," Fai went on, his voice less controlled than a moment ago. "When I was very young, someone placed a curse on me. The curse required me to kill the first person I came across who had greater magical power than I did."

Kurogane could see the gears turning in the girl's head as she grasped the ramifications of this. "No . . ." she whispered, shaking her head.

"My magic power was halved when I lost one of my eyes, but I didn't think the change would be so drastic that I'd have to worry about the curse, at least not yet. I wasn't expecting Syaoran-kun to have the feather, to be so much more powerful than he normally was . . ."

She was still shaking her head in disbelief. "No . . ."

"I wasn't in control of myself! I never . . . No matter what, I never meant to hurt him."

She stood up and tried to pull her hand away from the magician's. Tears flowed down her face in rivers. "Let go!" she yelled, her voice shooting up an octave. Kurogane realized how tightly Fai was holding onto her wrist and brought his hand down, jabbing a pressure point in Fai's hand. The vampire let go, seeming stunned by his own strength.

The princess had lost every semblance of composure. When she reached her bedroom, she slammed the door hard enough to make the hinges vibrate.


	36. Cried

Chapter Thirty-Six

Sakura buried her face in her pillow, trying to stifle the sobs tearing free of her throat. They would not be silenced.

_It's all my fault, _she thought, dragging a shaky breath through her teeth. _I should've never let him leave, I should've begged him not to go, I should've . . ._ She sobbed again, feeling as if every cell of her body was being ripped apart. Eventually, she came to the conclusion that _anything _she could've done would've been a better alternative to letting him go.

_Kurogane-san was right to yell at me before. If I'd never let him go to Seishirou, he would still be alive. _Her breath hitched and broke, and she let loose another shaky sob.

She had known something was wrong from the moment the others had returned without him, but she'd assumed he was in the hospital, that he was going to be fine.

And now she knew he wasn't.

She lay there, body crumpled up on top of the blankets, face pressed into the pillow to muffle the sobs she couldn't suppress, until she heard a knock on her door. She flipped her moistened pillow over and wiped her eyes, not sure why she bothered. The others had probably heard her uncontrollable wails, as quiet as it was out in the living room. But in a way, she was ashamed of her outburst, ashamed that she was so selfishly wallowing in self-pity when they were as hurt as she was. "Come in," she called hoarsely.

The door opened a crack. Most of the time, when someone visited her in her room, it was Fai. This time, it was Kurogane. "It's been hours. You need to eat."

Sakura blinked. Her lack of appetite was to be expected, but it still surprised her, when she looked at the red numbers on the alarm clock, at how long it had been since she'd eaten. Over seven hours, if she remembered the time of the others' return correctly.

But she didn't _feel _hungry, so she just shrugged and figured she'd eat when the urge hit her.

There was a soft sigh at the door, which struck her as odd. Kurogane-san almost never sighed, and when he did, it was pronounced and layered with exasperation. _He must be hurting terribly, too,_ she thought. _He lost a student. I just lost . . . _She faltered, unsure how to define her relationship with Syaoran. The past few weeks had proved they were not, and would never be, friends. There had too much distance between them, too much suppressed resentment from both of them after everything that had happened in Tokyo.

But he had meant something to her. There was something indefinable and critical between them, some draw that made her mourn him now that he was gone, mourn in a way she hadn't for the unnamed bodies of those who had perished in the apartment fire weeks ago. He was not _her _Syaoran, not the way she thought of it. But he could have been. So easily.

_Could have been mine, _she thought as another sob broke through her teeth. Her face was slimy with saltwater, and her throat ached, stressed by the spasmodic sobs.

"I'll leave your dinner in the fridge," Kurogane said after a few seconds. "You won't even have to reheat it."

She didn't trust herself to speak without breaking down again, so she just nodded. A moment later, the door closed with a soft _click_.

There was some shuffling around in the other rooms. She guessed one of the others must've been going to bed, given the late hour. The other followed about fifteen minutes later, and the apartment grew quiet again. The silence allowed her to think.

_Even if I couldn't have stopped him after he decided to go, what could I have done before then? I told Fai-san and Kurogane-san not to fight about his place here, but was that enough? I never told Syaoran anything like that. I never told him it was okay for him to be here. Was that what he was looking for? My approval? _She wiped her eyes again, brushing away the nascent tears.

_He agreed to help find my feathers, even after I acted so cold to him. _She remembered telling him something, a few weeks after they'd arrived in Infinity. She couldn't remember the words exactly, but she'd told him to stop trying to act like her Syaoran had, that it wasn't making things any easier. _I was so selfish. All he wanted to do was help me. I should've been grateful he was with us at all. Maybe then, he wouldn't have left. _

_I deserve this, _she thought. _I deserve to suffer for being so cold. It wasn't his fault that I lost my Syaoran. _She curled up into a ball on her bed, sensing another crying spell coming on. _Looking for my feathers, facing games of human chess, learning to use a sword . . . All for me. And I treated him like a monster. _Her throat protested as another shrill cry passed through it.

_You're the monster, _part of her mind accused, and she couldn't find the will to deny it.

She moved her head back to her pillow to muffle her cries.

* * *

><p>The dark-skinned woman recoiled from the sound of her name, eyes wide with panic. Seishirou caught hold of her arms, pinning them to her side.<p>

Syaoran blinked, briefly distracted from the ache in his stomach, an ache that had spread to the rest of his body while he'd been waiting. "What now?"

"You cut her throat with your claws and drink her blood."

The woman paled at this, but Syaoran had to say he was more shocked. "But she's still awake!"

His teacher rolled his eyes. "The first thing you learn as a vampire is to take your meals when you can get them. You're not going to have the luxury of a willing donor."

_No, that's one thing I don't have in common with Fai-san, _he thought, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. Before he could pluck up the courage to approach this world's version of Souma-san, she started screaming.

"Foul demons, my tribe will hunt you to the ends of this jungle! You cannot harm me without bringing on their wrath."

"Can't you do something?" Syaoran asked, lifting his hands to his ears to shut out the woman's wails.

His mentor sighed and moved his arms up around Souma's neck. Her freed limbs flailed wildly before they started clawing at Seishirou's arms. Her struggles proved futile after a few seconds, as the panic faded from her eyes.

Syaoran had trouble forming words through his horror. "Is she . . ."

"Unconscious. All I did was clamp down on the arteries leading to her brain. We've got a few minutes, but you'd better hurry, before the villagers come poking around with torches and pitchforks."

He stared at Souma's limp body, trying to come to terms with what was required of him. He knew that if he didn't take her blood, the pain in his body would keep growing until he lost control of himself, but he couldn't condone what his old teacher had done, bringing a helpless native here and knocking her out for him to snack on.

And above all those other concerns, this was someone he _knew_. She wore the same face as the woman he'd met in Outo, spoke with the same voice, reacted with the same intensity. If she had come willing to offer up her blood, he might've been drinking already. But she had _not _come willingly, she had writhed and shouted at the thought of being used like that.

"Syaoran. Syaoran, just relax. It's okay."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"You have to feed. The first feeding cements the transformation. You will _die _if you don't."

"I _can't_."

"If it's not her, it's someone else from the village. Better this one woman, unconscious and weakened, than a dozen dead in their houses because you lost control."

"I know, but . . . I _knew _her. In another world. We were . . . She was nice to me."

Seishirou's voice became quiet, cajoling. "Little Wolf, there's a reason you came to help me. I know how you must feel about this—I've been through it all myself. But if you don't feed soon, all you've done for me and the princess both will be for nothing."

He knelt down beside Souma, smelling the exotic fragrance of her blood, just under the surface of her skin. If he didn't think about who he was feeding from, if he just imagined he was settling down to eat breakfast, perhaps it wouldn't be so hard. Besides, the closer he got to that smell, the more his body craved it. His claws grew impossibly longer.

"You can take it from the arm," Seishirou said after a minute, his claws growing out with a sound like a sword being pulled from its sheath. With a jolt, Syaoran realized it was the first time he had seen Seishirou show his vampire side. _How can he be so controlled when I'm so weak? _

He didn't have much time to think about it, as right then, his teacher ran one knife-sharp nail across the woman's arm. A thin line of blood appeared on the surface, thickening as it seeped out of her body. When the smell of exposed blood hit him, any semblance of self-control Syaoran had maintained slipped away to some dark corner of his mind. He bent down, pressing his lips tight to the cut, and drank.


	37. Bitten

Chapter Thirty-Seven

A flash of pain went through his body as the blood hit his system, but not enough to make him break away. The rest of the pain that had tormented him since he'd woken up faded as the woman's warm blood flowed down his throat. He sucked greedily at the wound, gorging himself like a starving wolf.

The smell of blood had been appetizing, but the taste was magnificent. Not like any kind of food he'd had in his human life, but a sort of ambrosia. After the first few drops passed his lips, instinct drove him to sink his sharpened teeth into the woman's arm. The skin parted with deceptive ease, and more warm, sticky fluid slipped down his throat.

The pain of his hunger was all but absent now. He could feel the new blood revitalizing his muscles, easing the ache. Seishirou had told him this meal cemented the transformation into this new body. Syaoran supposed that had been what had made the need so dire.

_I won't need to feed like this again for a while, _he thought. Whether this conclusion came from some vague vampire instinct, or from the knowledge that Kurogane would've been dead by now if Fai had to feed as often as a human had to eat, he couldn't be sure.

The thought of them sent a little pang of regret through him. _They must've taken my choice for a betrayal, _he thought. _I didn't tell them why I had to do it. They won't understand why I went over to our enemy. _

The worry could not distract him from the taste for long. He took in another mouthful of blood, savoring the taste before he swallowed. Would it be like this every time, or would the enthusiasm fade as he gained better control over his impulses? His self-control was in tatters by now, but he didn't care. There was only one thing in the world, and that was the blood.

_There used to be something else, _his mind told him. Images of Sakura's face flitted behind his closed eyelids. _You used to care about other things. _

He took another mouthful, noting with some annoyance that the woman's blood pressure was dropping, making it harder to draw blood out of her.

_Souma. Her name is Souma. _

He tossed the thought aside, focusing on drawing more blood out through the cut. When little came out, he bit her again. He could feel her pulse slowing as he drank, could hear the labored rhythm of her heart.

A gentle hand came down on his shoulder. "That's enough now. Let go of her."

Stubbornly, he pulled another mouthful of fluid from the woman's arm. The hand clamped tighter around his shoulder, pulling him away. Syaoran tried to shrug it off. With fresh blood in his system, he knew he had the strength to fight almost any opponent.

_Not Kurogane or Fai or Seishirou, though, _he thought. The latter two were vampires, like him, but even human, Kurogane could easily kill him. _He might want to, after what I did. If he even knows I'm still alive. _The thought that they might not know saddened him somehow. _Maybe Sakura will cry for me. Or not. _

"Let go, Little Wolf, you're killing her."

_That _stirred some response in him, however broken his self-control was. He didn't want to kill anyone, least of all someone he'd known in another reality. And his raging thirst was sated now, anyway. But . . .

The hand moved his head and pried him off the woman. He looked up at Seishirou, blinking sleepily. The dark-haired man took a small handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and dabbed at his face. The piece of cloth came back bloody, but rather than being disgusted as he should've been, Syaoran felt a rush of desire.

"It's time to go back," his teacher told him. He frowned. "We have to go back to Fuuma, and we have to get out of here."

"I'm tired," Syaoran said, without really thinking about it. As soon as he said it, he realized it was true. The pain was all gone, and his body felt almost numb, like it did when it was swaddled in blankets in a bed. Logically, he knew he hadn't been up much longer than normal, and that the solid block of sleep he'd gotten before he'd left Infinity should've been more than enough to keep him energized, but the more he thought about it, the more exhausted he was.

"That's your body reacting to the blood."

"Oh . . . Is that going to happen every time?"

"Only if you take a lot." He sighed. "Although, I'd imagine anyone would be exhausted after what you went through, so . . . You can sleep. I'll carry you back."

Normally, Syaoran would've objected to the offer. He didn't want to be a burden to Seishirou, especially not after all the trouble his mentor had gone through to get his prey here. He glanced down at the unconscious woman. _Souma, _he thought. _Her name is Souma. Remember that. _

Seishirou tousled his hair again. "You can rest now. I'll take care of everything."

Syaoran closed his eyes and let the world disappear.

* * *

><p>Seishirou checked the woman's pulse once he was sure the kid was asleep. <em>Dead, <em>he thought when he felt nothing. _How unfortunate._

His eyes slid back over to Syaoran, sleeping peacefully on the ground. New vampires often felt fatigue after their first meal. The stress of the transformation and the relaxing qualities of fresh blood forced them to rest, however dangerous the situation. Seishirou supposed it could've been worse. The boy could've passed out the moment the torch-bearing villagers were upon them.

He looked back to the dead woman and ran his hand from her forehead to her nose, closing her unseeing eyes. _No point in telling Little Wolf, _he decided after a moment. After all, it wasn't as if Syaoran had any control over what had been done to him. For not expecting the shift, he'd acclimated well to his new body. A few lapses in control early on were nothing to be worried about.

Seishirou picked the boy up, holding him like an oversized infant, and carried him back to where they'd left Fuuma an hour ago. His brother looked unharmed, despite being exposed to the elements. Still, it was unwise to delay his care even a moment longer.

The boy had taken the feather inside him hours ago, but in his unconsciousness, drawing it back out wasn't a difficult task. Seishirou knelt over the boy's chest and drew a line of magic in the air. He let the dangling thread sink into Syaoran's chest, where the feather was, and drew it out. The boy shifted in his sleep, as if the removal of the feather caused him physical pain. "Sorry about this," Seishirou whispered, taking the feather and holding it over his brother's heart. The feather's presence slowed the spread of the disease, perhaps even stopped it for a time, but it could not leave Fuuma for more than a few hours, or the disease would spread as fast as it normally did. He estimated the magic artifact would prolong Fuuma's life as long as six months—but certainly no longer than that.

"It would seem I have more deals to work out," he said, summoning the magic in his eye. Yuuko's image appeared in a small circle on the ground, like colored lights projected on a television screen. "Yuuko-san," he greeted her.

The woman looked at him evenly. "I take it the magic bulb worked?"

He nodded, smiling warmly. "It did. I was able to save him."

Her voice was emotionless. "And do you have the payment I requested of you?"

He nodded, holding up the feather. "Just as promised."

"Send it over, then."

He lifted up the pure white feather into the light, admiring the gentle waves of magic coming off the it. It dissolved from this world and reappeared in Yuuko's hands. "I also have a request."

"Another one?" she asked, grinning now.

He nodded. "I know things will be difficult enough for Syaoran when his work with me is done. When you send that back to his friends, can you tell them he's alive and well, so that they might be ready to have him back?"

The witch contemplated that for a moment, then said, "That is within the bounds of my interference, but are you certain it will have the effect you're hoping for?"

"It's what Syaoran would've wanted, I'm sure."

Yuuko thought about that a moment more, then nodded. "Is that all you came to ask, then?"

"Well, there's that thing I mentioned to you before . . ."

"That is not within the limits of my power," she said, the same thing she'd said before, when he'd asked her to help Fuuma. "I already allowed you to fall into a world with a new feather. You will have to do the rest on your own."

He nodded, losing his smile.

"I understand."

Yuuko was quiet for a moment, as if chewing over her next words. Seishirou waited, holding up the connection while she thought. "You are aware how close you came to not saving the boy, aren't you?"

"I am."

"And so you must be aware of the chances your brother has, in his current state."

His eyes narrowed. "Even a one-in-a-million chance is better than no chance at all." _The Little Wolf said something to that effect, once, _he thought, remembering the boy's words in Edonis.

Yuuko nodded in understanding. "Challenge Hitsuzen however much you want. Some rules of the universe just don't change."

He frowned. "Then I will move Heaven and Earth to change them."

"I've known many men who've tried to bend the rules of the universe in my time. It has never ended well for them."

"One-in-a-million, Yuuko-san. That's all the chance I need."

The dark-haired woman nodded. "Very well then. I wish you the best of luck, however it turns out." She cut the connection, leaving him alone with his brother and the boy. Seishirou listened to their breathing for a moment, then guessed that neither of them would wake up for another few hours. That gave him enough time to replace the feather he'd given up, enough time to delay his brother's death.

_Nothing is inevitable, _he told himself. _When you're immortal, nothing is impossible. _He left his companions there, heading toward the strongest magical presence.


	38. Horrified

Chapter Thirty-Eight

It seemed all Yuuko's magical artifacts blessed the user with the ability to sense magic. Without the glass eye, Seishirou might have been able to sense a magical presence nearby, but with it, he could sense the direction, the distance, and the nature of the power. _So convenient, _he thought, running at superhuman speed toward this dimension's feather. The waves of power hummed in his ears, a constant vibration that grew stronger every passing minute.

It felt like he was getting close. He pushed himself forward, grinning at the thought of finding the feather. If it would keep Fuuma alive just a little bit longer, if it would keep the boy from wondering where the other feather had gone, it would be worth any hassle.

The waves were stronger still, almost painful in their proximity. As he drew closer, though, he sensed a secondary presence, a dingy brown and green aura that added another note to the heavenly sound of magic—a discordant, ear-splitting note. When he arrived, he realized why.

"What a surprise to see you here, Syaoran."

The boy, dressed in a blood-spattered black shirt with a bat emblazoned on the front, glanced over. A pair of mismatched eyes examined him with apathy, one the same color as the Original's eyes, the other a deep blue, replacing the glass eye that had plagued the boy's vision for so long. The boy looked at him a moment longer, then said, "The feather is gone from this world."

Seishirou smiled. "It is. But it would seem you have one. Several, in fact."

The boy said nothing, just stared him down with that dull gaze.

"You know, you've caused the Original quite a lot of trouble," Seishirou said, amused by the stony silence. "I would even say you drove him into my hands, setting it up so he was all too ready to leave his friends. I ought to thank you for that."

"My only directive is to find the feathers," the boy said mechanically.

"Oh, I know. But surely, you can spare one."

"No."

He felt his smile widen, his claws come out. At this, the boy edged back, taking a fighting stance. Seishirou sensed no fear from him, just an automatic readiness in the boy's tense, unfeeling body.

There were no more words after that. Seishirou lunged forward, moving at a speed impossible for a human body to match. The clone countered as well as he could, using their combined momentum to throw him aside while minimizing damage to himself. Seishirou saw his own technique in the move. "It seems you remember at least some of what I taught you. Let's see if you've improved since we met in Outo."

The clone gave no indication he'd heard, despite the words being perfectly clear in the quiet clearing. They exchanged blows again, claws meeting flesh. This time, Seishirou drew blood.

_Your body seems numb to pain, _he thought, feeling the sticky fluid flow down his fingertips. Their dance increased in tempo, until the boy resorted to magic. Seishirou saw a flash of blue, the instant before he slammed into an invisible wall. The force of the blast knocked him off guard, and his arms extended out, softening his landing. In the time it took for the boy to ready another spell, he was back on his feet and well out of the way. "So you got some of the magician's magic when you took his eye. Things are starting to make sense now." _I'll have to ask Syaoran what happened in Tokyo._

His own magic wasn't as powerful as the magic this boy had stolen, even halved, so he changed tactics, fleeing into the trees and looping around the clearing in an attempt to catch the copy off guard. He knew the feather had to be contained within him, probably using the same technique he'd taught Syaoran before the mage had stopped his heart. Seishirou knew how to draw the feather out, but he knew that would take time, and given how resistant this one was to losing even one feather, he doubted he'd be able to do it without first killing the boy.

_Not that that's a problem, _he thought. _I have the Original. That's all I need._

Before he could find a decent attack point, a new magic presence entered the field. Seishirou darted forward, recognizing the unique signature of Yuuko's dimension-shifting device. _How many of those does she _have_? _he wondered, frustrated. His clawed hand reached out for the clone, piercing the air where he would've been standing if he hadn't slipped away in time. "Shit," he muttered, watching the last wisps of the space between the dimensions fade out of existence.

He felt no other magic in this world.

* * *

><p>Syaoran dreamed, and as always, his dreams were nightmares.<p>

It wasn't the Other this time. Instead, Sakura stood in front of him, holding something red in her hands. As it pulsed, Syaoran realized what it was.

"I thought you were the one with the heart," she said emptily, looking right at him. The organ twitched in her hands, and red fluid dripped between her fingers and onto the tiled floor of their new apartment. As Syaoran watched it join the growing puddle on the floor, he realized there was a trail of blood leading away from the princess. His gaze followed the red spots automatically, and his lungs cramped up, as if he was choking, but couldn't cough up whatever substance had invaded his lungs.

He looked down and saw the expanse of red at his feet. To say the sticky liquid formed a puddle would've been inaccurate. It was a _lake_, with him at the center. At first, he wondered where the blood had come from. Surely one person could not bleed out so much and survive. Then he realized he wasn't alone.

Another body lay, crumpled up, in front of him. Several punctures marred her otherwise unblemished arm, along with a shallow slice. For all that she looked like she was sleeping, he knew from the faint smell of decay that she was dead. "I didn't do this," he whispered, looking back up at Sakura. The heart still pumped in her hand, pulsing with unholy life. Again, Syaoran felt like someone was choking him.

"A heart stopped can never be restarted," she said. "But you know that already, don't you?"

He shook his head, more in denial than in disagreement. "I . . . I had to. She . . . I needed the blood."

Sakura stared him down, the look in her eyes as cold as empty as the look in the Other's eyes had been. "If you took my Syaoran's heart, why don't you have one of your own?"

"You don't understand. He was the clone. I already had a heart!"

"Look down, then."

He obeyed reflexively, wondering what she could possibly mean. His eyes grazed the stiff red fibers of his shirt, torn open. _That happened when Fai tried to kill me, _he thought, but some part of him disagreed. The hole in his shirt was much too big. It could've torn after the attack, all the tiny punctures coming together to leave a deceptively large hole in his clothes, but somehow, he doubted he'd done anything to further damage his shirt since waking up.

And besides, there was fluid leaking out of his chest. He lifted one clawed hand up to touch the wound. _Impossible. The vampire blood healed me. _

His fingers brushed the edges of the wound. He felt no pain, no familiar agony of pressure on an open sore. But he did feel something else. An absence.

He looked up at Sakura, staring at the pulsating mass in her hands. "Impossible . . ." he whispered, shaking his head. He looked down again, not willing to believe it. All the blood around him . . . It was too much for a single body, even squeezing every drop out. The deep thrum of the heart echoed in his ears, the only sound in the nightmare. Still, he moved his hands over the hole in his chest, feeling the flesh that had been gouged out around his heart without feeling the pain of his injuries. "Impossible," he said again, looking up at her.

But there was no denying it. The thing in her hands was his heart, gouged out of his chest.

* * *

><p>Syaoran woke, alert faster than he'd ever been before. He jumped to his feet, his supernatural speed actually making him lose his balance, and toppled forward, falling to his knees. His hand reached up to feel his chest, and he recoiled when he felt the stiff fibers of his shirt poking out at him. His breath came quicker, the loudest sound in the world.<p>

Without really thinking about what he was doing, he got up and ran. His newfound grace wasn't enough to keep him from stumbling, and by the time he slowed down, he was covered in fresh, rapidly-healing scrapes and bruises. A wave of nausea came over him, and he started retching, right where he knelt. _Oh god . . . _he thought, remembering the lake of blood, the beating heart, the dead woman. _Souma, her name was Souma . . ._

Once he'd heaved up half a quart of bloody bile, he got back to his feet and staggered deeper into the woods. His breathing became labored again. _I'm choking, _he thought irrationally. _I'm choking on the air, oh god . . . _

He almost bent over again to puke. Almost. Instead, he continued forward, no destination in mind except away. Away from all of it, away from the nightmare, away from the gnawing anxieties, away from the accusation in Sakura's eyes in the final moments of that dream. He remembered feeling Souma's pulse slow, remembered being annoyed at the drop in her blood pressure. _What have I done? _

Another few steps, and he tripped. For several seconds, he contemplated staying down, just lying down here to die. He deserved it, after what he'd done. There was no redemption for his sin. But after another minute, he got back up and kept walking. This time, he didn't stop until he reached a stream.

The water smelled strange, and it took him a moment to realize that was only because his senses had sharpened so much. He sat beside the muddy water, looking down at the swirling currents. _I could jump in, _he thought. _I could jump in and take a deep breath, and I wouldn't have to think about this ever again._

The tenor of his thoughts jolted him out of his panic. He'd never been suicidal, had explicitly told the others that he wasn't suicidal. _But they aren't here right now. _

He couldn't make himself do it, though. Couldn't make himself take the plunge into the dark waters. _I'm not even sure it would kill me. Who knows how hard it is to kill a vampire? _

Instead of drowning himself, he looked around. A pool of water had gathered in a dip in the ground, probably after a flood. Syaoran could see the canopy above reflected on the surface, and decided to crawl over there, to get the first look at his eyes now that he'd become a vampire.

Both his eyes were gold, which struck him as odd. Since he'd given up one of his eyes years ago, he'd expected the glass eye implanted in his head would've stayed the same shade of brown. But there must've been some sort of cloaking magic in that eye, because it was the same unnatural gold as the other one.

He stared at his reflection for a long moment, trying to come to terms with what he'd done. He was almost sure now he'd killed Souma. Her slowed pulse in those final seconds, the sharp drop in blood pressure . . . It only made sense for her to be dead. _I killed someone, _he thought. _I really killed someone._

_What kind of monster . . . _he wondered, _What kind of monster have I become? _


	39. Requested

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Seishirou found him by the riverbank. "I wasn't expecting you to wake up so soon. The transformation usually exhausts new vampires for half a day."

Syaoran said nothing, still staring at black slits of his pupils. He'd been kneeling by the puddle for almost an hour now, and the worst of his panic had faded. Now, there was only a deep, aching guilt to occupy him.

"Little Wolf? Are you ready to go back?" The older man's voice sounded oddly strained, as if he was holding back some emotion. "Time is of the essence, you know."

"She's dead, isn't she? That woman you brought me." _Souma, her name was Souma. _

For a long time, Seishirou didn't answer. "It's not your fault. You weren't in control of yourself."

_Not in control. _In the puddle, he saw his frown deepen. _I was never in control, not even when I was human. I couldn't keep the Other from betraying everyone. I couldn't keep my mouth shut after a few shots. I can't even control my dreams. _"When will I be in control?" he asked, hearing the dead quality of his own voice. "When will I ever be in control of myself?"

Again, there was a pause before Seishirou answered. "I can teach you how to control the thirst. I can teach you how to keep your prey alive."

"Don't call her that."

"Who?"

"She had a name. Souma. I knew another version of her, once, back in Outo. And I still couldn't stop myself from killing her."

"Control isn't a facet of vampire nature—"

Syaoran leapt to his feet, turning around so fast the scenery actually blurred. In a quarter of a second, he stood half a foot from his teacher's face. "When? How long until I can control myself? How long until the blood doesn't cloud my judgment? How long until I can see my friends without wanting to rip their throats out? How . . . How long . . ." He took a shaky breath, the sudden fervor fading as fast as it had come.

Seishirou sighed and rested a hand on each of his shoulders. "You're not just talking about the blood, are you?"

He looked away.

Another quiet sigh. "The first step to controlling yourself is to keep your emotions in check. No more running off in a panic because you think you've done something wrong. Come to me when you need to talk about things."

"You weren't there." _No one is ever there. Not Seishirou, not anyone._

_No, that's not true, _part of him argued._ Kurogane-san was always there. He would've listened, if you'd just told him what was bothering you . . . _He frowned, then realized he was doing the opposite of what Seishirou had just told him. _But I can't tell Seishirou all that and expect him to accept it. He's right about one thing: I can't go back to the others, not after what happened in Infinity. _He remembered feeling Fai's claws rip open his heart, remembered the half-furious, half-shocked look on Kurogane's face, remembered everything fading out, like a half-forgotten dream.

More painful that all of that, he remembered the tears in Sakura's eyes when he'd told her he was leaving. _I should have stayed, _he thought. _She wanted me to stay, she really did. I could've endured all the rest, so long as _she _wanted me there. But it's too late now. They think I'm dead. When they find out I'm not, they'll just think I'm a traitor. _

"What are you feeling now?" Seishirou asked, his voice unusually serious.

He hesitated. "I'm . . . I miss them." It wasn't a _lie _so much as an omission. He missed them, missed Sakura, but he also felt guilty for missing them. _I don't deserve to see their faces again, not after killing someone . . . _

Seishirou nodded, looking hurt. "That's normal. You just have to remember, you're better off with me. I understand you in a way they never will. Blind in one eye, a vampire . . ."

"Fai-san was all those things, too."

"The magician tried to kill you. Why are you defending him?"

Syaoran fought the rush of hurt those words caused him, but he wasn't sure if it was the words alone, or the fact that Fai really _had _tried to kill him that caused him pain. "No, but . . . No."

"Good. Now let's go. There's nothing for us in this world."

He nodded once, letting the emotion drain out his body. _I will learn self-control before I see them again._ "Right."

* * *

><p>It had been five days since they'd visited Seishirou's apartment, and their little group had fallen into an uneasy pattern.<p>

Kurogane busied himself sharpening Souhi at the kitchen table. He'd already polished the fine blade, being careful as always not to cut himself as he ran the wet rag across the edge. It had been years since he'd cut himself on one of his own weapons, and he intended to keep it that way.

Across the living room, Fai's door was open—just a few inches, but the small gap meant a lot of different things. Kurogane knew it was partly an invitation, allowing anyone with an interest to speak to the magician to enter without fear of reprimand. He also knew that the small size of the crack meant the wizard didn't want to force his company on everyone else in the living room, if he could help it.

Sakura's door was closed. As far as he knew, it had been closed with only brief interruptions when she'd come out to fetch something from the refrigerator, or go to the bathroom. Even so, he suspected those trips only occurred when the need exceeded her grief, far less often than they ought to occur.

Souhi was in better condition than ever. Polished, sharpened, and cared for, it looked fresh from the forge. He'd spent more time in the past few days cleaning it than he had in the rest of the time since he'd bought it in Outo.

He tried not to consider the fact that the careful polishing was a result of his newfound free time.

Sakura's door opened with a faint _click, _and she stepped out. She walked over the refrigerator. If he listened clearly, he could hear the metal joints of her leg brace sliding around as she moved.

He moved on to Souhi's scabbard, wiping it down with a fresh cloth. When Sakura set a cup of coffee down in front of him, he glanced up.

"I need to talk to you about something," the princess said, taking a seat across from him. She took a small sip from her own mug, stalling.

_Isn't this supposed to be the mage's job? _he wondered. Though, the mage wasn't exactly on good terms with anybody at the moment, least of all the princess.

He sighed. "What is it?"

"Will you teach me how to use a sword?"

It was one of the few times in his life Kurogane was actually shocked speechless. A dozen thoughts flitted through his mind, too fast to decipher, but all carrying the same note of disbelief. _Why would _she _want to learn how to use a _sword_? _

He sat there for several minutes, his cup of coffee all but forgotten in front of him. Slowly, his mind began to function normally again. _It's the same, _he thought. _The kid said exactly the same thing back in Outo. _They'd been drunk at the time, but with two cups of coffee between them, this exchange was eerily similar.

_I can't just take on another student, _he thought. _Not after I failed the last one. _He'd avoided mentioning it after their return, avoided thinking about it. It hadn't occurred to him that any of the others would move on to the point where he would _have _to think about it, at least not so soon. "No."

Surprise flashed across the princess's face. "You won't train me?"

"No." How could he explain it to her? It wasn't as if he was incapable of taking on another student, or even unwilling, but it was too fucking _soon_.

Her surprise turned to desperation. "I would be a good student. I'd work hard every day, and I'd never complain—"

"No! I'm not taking on another student."

Her eyes dropped to the table. For several minutes, she said nothing, sipping her coffee as if the bitter liquid was distasteful to her. Kurogane went back to caring for Souhi's scabbard, folding the washcloth and cleaning out the crevices. _She needs some way to defend herself, _part of him thought. _But she has magic of her own, and she can go to the mage to figure it out. _

_No, she can't. _The thought came unbidden, but it sent a pang of guilt through him. _She can't even bring herself to look at him, how can she ask him about magic? Besides, it might not be the same kind of magic at all. Her powers are mostly passive, out of her control. The mage would have to go out of his way to do magic._

The princess set her cup of coffee down with a loud _plink_. "Syaoran said something to me, before he left. Something he wanted to pass on to you." From the way her eyes flickered to Fai's door, he guessed "you" meant everyone.

"What did he say?" he asked quietly.

"He wanted me to tell you how sorry he was for leaving."

Kurogane caught the significance behind the apology immediately. "He knew there was a chance he wasn't coming back."

"I didn't realize. I thought he was apologizing for going to Seishirou. I thought he was afraid we were going to hate him for going." A slight tremor rocked her voice. "I should've known better, but . . ."

"Stop that," he grumbled. "There isn't a single one of us who isn't at fault for this, so stop crying like you've got to carry the burden on your own."

"There was something else he said." She was back to the calm, almost emotionless tone she'd been using this whole time.

_Another thing? How far ahead did he plan this? _"What?"

"He said I needed to know how to defend myself, in case he didn't come back, so . . ."

"That's why you want me to teach you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

He sighed. _What else can I do?_ _It's not like it's going to get any easier from here. _"Sword fighting isn't something you pick up in a day. A few lessons aren't going to keep you safe. Do you even realize what kind of commitment this is?"

She winced. "Yes."

"And you still want to go through with it?"

Her response was emphatic. "Yes!"

_Wow, way to give in, _he thought to himself, rolling his eyes. "We'll start tomorrow."


	40. Showered

_Author's Note:_

_Spoilers through Ceres for this chapter. Fai's past is alluded to, resulting in much angst for our favorite mage. Plus, we get to read about Fai naked in the shower._

* * *

><p>Chapter Forty<p>

Sometimes, Fai felt like he was really, truly alone.

It had been almost five days since he'd left his room for anything more than a shower or a bathroom trip. Since he didn't need to eat, there was no reason to venture out into the living room, to face the accusing glares, the averted gazes, the cold silence.

He wondered guiltily if this was how Syaoran-kun had felt in the weeks after they'd arrived in Infinity.

_He endured this for over a month, _Fai told himself. _You can handle a few awkward silences._

But he couldn't, especially not when those silences extended for days at a time. Sakura's request, which would've been audible to his ears even if his door had been shut, was the first handful of words spoken in almost three days. Before that, he recalled Kurogane urging her to eat and announcing his plan to go grocery shopping at the market. That was all. The rest of the hours passed in silence, except for torturous bouts of sobbing from the other room.

After the brief conversation, the apartment was quiet once more. Beyond the door, the whisper of metal sliding against metal told him Kurogane was putting away his sword. Soft, uneven footsteps marked Sakura's return to her room. Her door clicked quietly as the ninja rose from his usual seat at the table. When Fai heard the front door open, he realized the silence would stretch on even longer.

He couldn't stand it. As soon as Kurogane was out the door, he stood up and plucked a bundle of clean clothes from his dresser. Thirty seconds later, he was in the bathroom, turning the shower knob and locking the door behind him. He gathered the necessary materials, stripped off the outfit he'd been wearing the past two days, and stepped under the water.

In Ceres, baths consisted of sponging off in a basin of lukewarm water, then quickly rinsing and drying to stave off the piercing cold. So whenever they visited a world where hot water was abundant, it always caught him by surprise. Today was no different. As the steaming water pelted his naked skin, he recoiled, throwing himself against the side of the shower with a hiss.

His hand quickly extended to lower the temperature of the water. For a moment, he let it settle at body temperature, like he was used to. As he stood there, water running down his skin, he turned the dial further to the right, until the temperature made him shiver.

_It's time to wake up, _he thought. _It's time to stop dreaming and act. _

Frigid water ran down his skin, raising bumps. He wrapped his arms around himself to preserve his body heat, not sure why he bothered when he knew he could turn the temperature up. The freezing water felt _right _somehow, a small discomfort to start toward his atonement.

He endured the chilly water almost half an hour, scrubbing until every inch of his skin was raw. At one point, as he scraped the washcloth across his hands so hard his knuckles started bleeding. A wave of revulsion came over him, and he doubled over, repressing the urge to break down completely. He found solace in the irony—a vampire sickened at the sight of blood—and chuckled darkly to himself. A moment later, his laugh changed in pitch, growing more ragged. Another second, and he was on the floor of the shower, sobbing.

The night he'd killed Syaoran-kun, a few tears had escaped his control. Now, muffled by the sounds of rushing water, he allowed himself to break down completely. "I'm sorry," he whispered, water running between his lips and spreading across his tongue. Shudders ran down his back, more intense than before. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry . . ."

His mumbles continued, varying only a little in the minutes he sat there. Eventually, though, he lost track of who he was apologizing to. Was it Syaoran, who would never be able to hear his apologies? Or was it Sakura, still mourning in the other room, torn apart by her imagined role in Syaoran's demise? Or someone else . . .

"It was my fault . . . I had to do it . . . I'm sorry."

Images of the tower—the tower with the rounded walls, the one that was impossible to climb up and too far to jump from—flickered through his mind. He'd been at fault then, too. _I wasn't cursed then. They called me cursed, but I wasn't. I was just selfish, that's all._ Another sob wracked his body, beating him down with its force. It had been a long time since he'd cried like this, a long time since he'd revisited those old wounds.

_A long time since things have been so quiet, _he thought. Abruptly, the feeling of cold water on his skin became too much. His hand snaked up to wrap around the shower dial, shutting off the water. He sat there, on the floor of the tub, for several minutes, shivering. "I'm sorry, Fai . . ."

* * *

><p>Learning control when every person who passed by smelled like dinner was even more taxing than Syaoran had expected.<p>

"Keep your breathing steady," Seishirou coached him as they walked. Syaoran stared straight ahead, focusing on nothing but his self-control. "Don't let your claws come out."

They'd left the previous world much sooner than he'd expected, as soon as he'd learned how to sheathe his claws. From what he knew of Seishirou, his teacher liked to stay in every country for several months, reading old texts and acquiring that country's information on vampires. Syaoran supposed their quick departure from the jungle country had been necessary, though. Someone would find Souma's corpse in the other world, and any strangers would be looked upon with hostility.

This country—Avantine, they called it—was much more advanced, almost like Piffle World in its stunning convenience of living. Already, they'd come across machines that distributed hot meals on paper plates in exchange for this country's currency.

Not that he had much interest in normal food anymore. He almost sighed, then remembered that he was supposed to be focusing on not killing all the innocent bystanders crowding around him.

"How are you feeling?" Seishirou asked, not out of any sort of politeness, but out of genuine interest—perhaps checking his new student's control.

Syaoran took a shallow breath. "I feel . . . fine."

The dark-haired man nodded. "Good. We're getting closer."

"How do you know there's a feather in this world?"

"Yuuko has many magical artifacts. The one in my eye serves essentially the same purpose as the white creature your friends carry with them. It translates, and it's sensitive to strong powers. It's not as convenient, given that the number of worlds I can go to is finite, but I intend to be done with my work by the time that number runs out."

"How many different worlds have you been to?" he asked, distracting himself from the sharp scent of blood. A young boy had strayed a bit too close, causing a concentrated cloud of the forbidden fragrance to rise up and fill his nose. From the way the little boy was smiling, he had no idea how close he'd just come to death. _Self-control, _Syaoran chanted to himself.

"Too many to count," Seishirou said after a moment. "More than you've been to, I imagine."

"Which one was your favorite?"

"I'm not sure. The most _interesting _world I've come across was a world where you could breathe underwater, but the air was almost entirely made up of carbon monoxide, because of all the volcanic gas that bubbled up from under the waves."

"That's incredible."

Seishirou laughed. "It was quite a shock at first. It was one of the few times in my life I thought I was going to die, vampire or not."

Syaoran glanced around automatically, making sure no one had heard the word. He couldn't be sure how many worlds were aware of the existence of vampires, but from what he'd studied, it wasn't common, and vampires were generally not welcomed in worlds where they were known. _I think I read something about vampire hunts in the country of Jade, _he thought, remembering the history book he'd borrowed.

_No, that was the Other, _some part of him thought. He flinched.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm in control," he assured the older man.

"Yes, but are you _okay_?"

The concern made him fidget. "I'm fine. I was just thinking . . . Back in Infinity, you said I didn't have to worry about making distinctions between my clone and myself, at least not in regards to our shared memories."

"Right," his teacher confirmed, an edge of curiosity in his voice.

"The thing is, it makes a difference, whose memories they are. At least for me. Sometimes, when I think about them, it's like I'm looking through the Other's eyes again. It reminds me how trapped I was for all those years. It reminds me of the connections I've lost."

"Like what?"

_Sakura. _"Just . . . People I've never met for myself. People I might never meet."

"But you never met me either, up until a few days ago."

He frowned. "I know, but that's different. You knew right away I wasn't the same one you'd met. The thought of trying to explain that to King Touya, and Yukito-san . . ."

"Then don't. If they don't sense it for themselves, there's no point in saying anything."

"But I'm not him!" He reined in his voice, surprised it had come out so forcefully. _The first thing I have to learn to control my emotions. Everything will come easier after that. _

"Is it really so important they know who you are?"

"It is to me."

Seishirou frowned. The expression didn't look as strange on his face as it did when Fai-san frowned, but Syaoran guessed it was almost as rare an occurrence. Like the expressions of concern before, it made him uneasy. _Everything he does makes you uneasy, but he's done nothing to hurt you since you first met in Infinity. There's no reason to be so anxious. _

"The feather is there," Seishirou said suddenly, pointing to a massive, floating ship as it sailed through the open air. Syaoran's eyes widened as he took in the bulbous steel structure.

"In there?"

The man nodded. "Probably powering the engines. That thing is enormous."

"But if we take it out, won't it crash?"

A grin split Seishirou's face. "Not if it's already on the ground."


	41. Stolen

Chapter Forty-One

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Syaoran asked, as _King's Landing _docked in the shipyard. Hundreds of people strolled down the metal steps leading off the spherical sky-ship, all chattering with the enthusiasm of tourists. "There's so many people. How are we supposed to get into the engine room?"

"Patience, Syaoran. You see that blue sign out there?"

He nodded, realizing he could see every tiny letter of the distant sign. "It's a maintenance building."

"Yes. So we disguise ourselves as maintenance workers, make our way to the engine room, and slip out with the feather before anyone notices."

Syaoran frowned. Seishirou's plan was simple, but also immoral. They would be disguising themselves to steal the power source of a very large aircraft, with the intention of fleeing the country almost immediately afterward. If that wasn't worthy of prison time in this country, he didn't know what was.

_Whatever it takes, _he told himself. _I have to have something to go back to the others with. If they even think I'm still alive . . . _"Let's go."

Seishirou nodded and walked nonchalantly across the parking lot. Dozens of people passed them, most of them fresh from the sky-ship. No one seemed to notice anything strange about them, despite the odd clothes they wore. _Maybe they think we're just ordinary tourists, _Syaoran thought, trying to keep his expression calm. The easiest way to draw attention to oneself was to act guilty.

They reached the maintenance building without incident. With practiced movements, Seishirou pulled two twisted pieces of metal from his pocket and picked the lock. It took him less time than it would've taken a normal person to find the right key and unlock the door.

Syaoran made a mental note to ask his teacher about that later.

Once inside, they weaved through shelves upon shelves of tools, spare parts, and little inventions he couldn't identify. They circled around the main part of the store and ducked through a door labeled "employees only." _It's a good thing I can read so many different languages, _Syaoran thought. _That's one thing the Other did to help me. _

He realized he was differentiating again, and looked down. _I suppose that's true, though. The Other had to learn the languages of many different countries when he was traveling with Father, and it's helping me now. That's something, at least._

They descended down a flight of metal stairs. At the bottom, they found several brown suits similar to those he'd seen on some of the men working on _King's Landing._ They donned those over their regular clothes, then hurried back up the stairs and out the door they'd come in. No one noticed them.

Once they were outside, Seishirou pointed to a spot where a collection of maintenance workers were patching up the ship. "We'll go in through there. Keep your head down and act like you belong."

Syaoran nodded. He didn't have to be told how to act. _Wherever we happen to go, people are always the same on the most basic level. The reactions, the suspicion, the variances in trust and caution . . . People everywhere react the same way to certain stimuli. _

They walked up to the cluster of workers, and Syaoran saw that the section they were working on opened up right into the heart of the engine room. It almost seemed too easy. _Maybe there'll be guards, _he thought, resisting the urge to look around. Seishirou had told him to keep his head down, just like any other worker.

"This way," his teacher murmured, too soft to carry to the human's ears. They continued through the lighted passage, ambling along at a frustratingly slow pace. _Keep calm. A few minutes isn't going to make a difference. We'll still get the feather. _

The smell of iron was strong within the ship, but not as appetizing as blood might've been. _There are other metals here. Aluminum. That must be why the sky-ship is light enough to fly. It's made of alloys. _

"It's this way," Seishirou said, turning as the corridors intersected. Syaoran followed, eyes narrowing as the lights grew brighter. The magic in him trembled, and he wondered if his vampire senses were making him more perceptive to the feather's oscillating waves of energy, or if being unable to rely on Mokona had allowed him to take notice of it. Either way, he could feel the waves getting stronger as he drew near.

Noises issued forth from the engine room, loud enough against his eardrums to cause him physical pain. _I really hope this goes away, _he thought, trudging on. Once inside, he saw the cause of the noises. The engines were all still running, pistons moving up and down in their rapid rhythm, steam shooting out of relief valves, gears turning against each other with rapid _clicks_. At the center of it all was the high-pitched vibration of energy moving from Sakura's feather to the rest of the ship.

"It's this easy?"

Seishirou nodded. "You've been following the path of most resistance for a while now. Doesn't it make sense that something should happen to turn out easy?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

Seishirou stepped forward, moving faster now that he was out of sight of the workers. Before he reached the metal pedestal on which the feather sat, he encountered an electrified barrier. Stunned by the jolt, Seishirou recoiled, almost falling on his back.

_Knew it couldn't be that easy, _Syaoran thought, trying not to feel smug. "They set up an electric barrier to stop anyone from stealing the feather."

"You don't seem surprised."

He shook his head. "No. We saw something similar in Koryo, except with magic instead of electricity."

Seishirou sighed. "It looks like we're going to have to think of something clever if we want to steal it."

Syaoran glanced around the room, trying to judge from the position of the invisible barrier how they could interrupt the flow of electricity. He noticed six small antenna-like structures sticking up out of the floor in a hexagon around the feather. _I bet if we destroy just one of those, the whole circuit will break. But how to do that without drawing too much attention to ourselves? _He frowned, then turned to his teacher. "I think those little towers are what's holding up the barrier. If we take out any one of them, the circuit should break."

"Ah, very clever. How shall we go about that?"

He shrugged. "How much noise do you think we can make in here before someone comes running?"

"Thinking about using your magic?"

He nodded. "I don't want to risk touching the pillars if they're electrically charged." With a grimace, he recalled the stun guns in Piffle World. He didn't want to experience that for himself if there was any way to avoid it.

"Probably wise. Go ahead. You should work on your magic anyway."

"Right." Syaoran took his stance, breathing deeply through his nose now that the risk of running into humans was low. Energy rushed up around him, pulsing through his muscles like a heartbeat. It concentrated in his forearm, crackling around his skin. "_Raitei Shourai!_"

The spell exploded from his fingertips, striking the nearest pillar. Shadows writhed and jumped in the room as his magical lightning melted the device, and the thunder was so loud in the confined space that, for a moment, he thought he'd gone deaf from hearing it.

When the spell abated, he found himself staring at a twisted lump of metal. "That'll do it."

Seishirou moved with supernatural speed toward the feather, this time unimpeded by the invisible barrier. "Let's go. I'm sure someone heard that."

Syaoran could hear pounding of feet approaching from the corridors. "Will we have to fight them?"

"Not unless they're a threat."

They moved through the bowels of the ship, faster than Syaoran had ever dreamed he could run. In the last world they'd been to, their supernatural speed had been impeded by rough terrain and inexperience. Here, running across flat, solid ground, they made much better time.

"We have to get back to Fuuma," Seishirou told him. "We're past the four hour mark. His disease is likely starting to spread again."

Syaoran didn't argue, merely focusing on avoiding two maintenance workers who'd come to see what the crash had been. When the men saw their speed, they threw themselves against the walls in panic.

_I guess they don't have vampires in Avantine, _he thought as they reached the end of the corridor. Sunlight poured into his eyes, and the commotion they'd seen in the _King's Landing _doubled as shouts of alarm took over the area. Security guards with stun guns came at them from all sides. _Damn it._

"Looks like we're in for a fight, after all," Seishirou mused.

Syaoran shied away from the buzzing stun guns and let his claws come out.


	42. Cared For

Chapter Forty-Two

"Stop right there!" one of the security guards yelled.

Seishirou smiled, holding up the feather they'd stolen. "I'm afraid we need this more than you do."

The Little Wolf edged closer to his side, claws extended to full length. Seishirou could smell the adrenaline in his blood. "Don't be afraid, Little Wolf."

"Stand down!" the leader of the guards yelled. The words must've carried some greater meaning, because the rest of the security guards lifted their stun guns up in preparation for a fight. Seishirou pulled the feather inside him, as he'd once shown his charge. He took a step forward, prompting the guards to retaliate.

The actual fight took less than fifteen seconds. The leader lunged forward, his ruddy face puffed up, a vein pulsing in his forehead. At the movement, the others descending on them like a poorly-coordinated pack of wolves. Seishirou sidestepped the stun gun, noting the look of surprise on the leader's face, and snatched the man's arm. He hit a pressure point in his wrist, causing him to drop the electrified instrument. A moment later, Seishirou threw a vicious kick to his opponent, snapping ribs. The man went down, clutching his side.

The loss of their leader flustered the other security guards. They shied away, moving so their stun guns could be used as defensive weapons. Seishirou saw the Little Wolf kick away two weapons without harming the guards. Another almost hit him in the back, but before it could, the boy turned around and kicked that one away.

_He learned a lot from his clone, _Seishirou thought, grinning as he took down two more guards. _That might give him an edge should they ever meet again._

The pack was beginning to thin out now. Seishirou took down one more man, breaking his dominant hand and throwing him across the shipyard parking lot. The man landed with a _thud_ on his side. "Let's go, Syaoran-kun, before anyone else shows up."

The boy seemed wary of leaving when there were still enemies to fight, but Seishirou had known his clone back in Clow, and he knew the boy would obey. Sure enough, Syaoran was running alongside him a moment later.

They made it out of the shipyard with little fanfare. Seishirou took down a man who'd been lurking in ambush behind a wall, then continued on, darting through the city streets as speeds that made people turn their heads in shock.

Less than ten minutes passed before they reached their hotel. It was a floating structure, requiring them to step onto a wafer-like platforms to reach it. While they ascended, Seishirou spoke. "You disarmed the guards, but you didn't hurt them. Why?"

The boy hesitated, then glanced down. "I'm not a bad person," he murmured, as if he didn't quite believe what he was saying. "I try to avoid fights when I can, and when a confrontation is unavoidable, I try not to hurt anyone."

Seishirou nodded. "Your physical control is impressive. New vampires can snap bones without even meaning to, but you've managed to rein in your strength to a human level."

Surprise flashed across the boy's features. "Thank you."

"Control isn't something I had time to teach you in Clow. Did you come to control yourself before you started your journey, or after?"

He frowned. "There were very few times when I . . . when my _clone _needed to fight before my journey, so probably after."

Seishirou frowned at the correction. _He won't let it go. He doesn't realize those memories belong to him just as much as they belong to the Other. _"Syaoran-kun," he said as they reached their floating hotel cube. Seishirou punched in the code they'd been given and stepped off the platform, followed closely by his charge. "I told you before, you don't have to make the distinction between your own memories and the Other's memories."

"And I told you the distinction matters to me."

Seishirou dropped the subject, pulling the feather out of his chest and walking over to the bedroom he'd given Fuuma. Despite the overflowing masses of people in the city, the rooms were actually more spacious than the ones in Infinity. Instead of a closet-sized bedroom for Fuuma, he'd been able to leave his brother in a comfortable double-bed. When Seishirou walked in to check on the ill man, surprise flooded through him. "You're awake."

His brother looked over to him, very much aware of the situation. "Good evening, Brother."

Seishirou hurried to his side and let the feather rest over his brother's chest. "Little Wolf, call room service. Tell them to bring some soup and crackers."

"Okay," the boy's voice called from the other room. A moment later, Seishirou heard the phone being picked up from the desk by the door.

He returned his attention to his brother. "Are you in pain?"

Fuuma chuckled softly, ignoring the question. "So you brought the Little Wolf. I always heard you talk about him, but I never expected you to let him tag along."

"It was the only way," he said. "And he's the only one besides you I would trust with this."

"Ah. Well, it can't be helped, I suppose." Fuuma cradled the feather closer to his chest, breathing deeply as the magic seeped down into his body. "What world have we landed in now?"

Seishirou tried to smile, but all the practice in the multiverse couldn't force anything more than a small grin. "It's called Avantine. It's a very advanced world. It's like Piffle World, but more regal."

"Any magic to speak of?" Fuuma asked. Seishirou's faint smile widened a bit. His brother had always been interested in magic, always envied his own natural ability. _Even now that all the magic in the world can't save you, you ask me this. _

"No magic that I've come across. There's that feather, but that came from outside this country, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Yes. It seems like we're finding them everywhere. Here, Tokyo, Outo . . ."

Seishirou nodded. Fuuma hadn't been with him for that world, but he'd told him about it in the rare lucid moments he'd had since falling ill. "Yes. The Little Wolf's been looking for them for several months now, going to a bunch of different worlds. Kind of like we do, except with a more specific objective."

"Yuuko-san was always vague when it came to her prices. 'In exchange for the power to cross dimensions, you will do whatever I say.' Isn't that what she said?"

Seishirou nodded, noting the steady decline of Fuuma's coherence.

"The food's here," Syaoran called as someone knocked at the door.

"Tell the man to put it on our hotel bill, and bring it in."

"Okay." There was a shuffling of feet, the sound of a door sliding open.

Seishirou checked Fuuma's temperature, lacking much else to do. _I'll have to wash his hair again soon, _he thought, running his fingers through the cinnamon-colored hair. _It's been almost four days, and he was lying in the dirt in a jungle for half a day._

"Seishirou?"

"Yes, Fuuma?"

"This disease . . . I don't see how there's any way for us to fight it. That world I landed in after Tokyo was advanced, too, and they couldn't do anything. They said I had waited too long, that my body had deteriorated past the point where they could treat it."

Syaoran stepped through the door, a tray of food in his hands. He set it on the bedside table and slipped out of the room, seeming to understand the sensitive nature of the conversation. Seishirou picked up the bowl of soup and moved it closer to his brother so he could feed him without spilling.

"I'm not really hungry," Fuuma said. With his gaunt face and sunken eyes, the lack of appetite seemed like an ill omen.

"You'll feel better once you eat."

"It's my body. It's not your place to tell me what I should and shouldn't do."

Seishirou frowned and moved the spoon closer to his brother's lips. "I'm older than you. You have to listen to me."

"We're not children anymore. Seniority doesn't apply here."

"I don't care."

The younger man looked at him, losing the trace of amusement he'd expressed since waking up. "I'm dying, Seishirou. Nothing you can do will change that, and I shouldn't have to do anything I don't want to."

"You're not going to die, so it's a moot point."

"You know my chances. You know, even if I let you do this, how unlikely it is I'll survive."

Seishirou sighed heavily, losing his patience. "You're going to eat this soup, or I'm going to dump it over your head, spoon and all."

His brother glared up at him for a moment longer, then gave in with a heavy sigh and opened his mouth. Seishirou poured the spoonful of soup between his brother's lips. "One day, dear Brother, you'll thank me for this."

"This is a stupid plan."

"I've already lived my life. Even if I lose it now, I'm going to make sure you have a chance to live yours."

Fuuma swallowed another mouthful of soup. "That's why you brought the boy, isn't it? Because he'd understand."

"He has a goal he absolutely has to pursue, and he'll do whatever it takes to meet that goal. But he also has honor. He understands enough to know he can still accomplish his goal while he helps us."

"You truly are a manipulative bastard."

Seishirou smiled, this time with genuine fondness. "Maybe. Now, finish your soup."


	43. Prices Paid

Chapter Forty-Three

"Aren't you going to send that back to them?" Watanuki asked, staring at the large white feather.

Yuuko turned her head in the direction of his voice, not smiling for once. "If I were to return it now, they would have to pay an additional price for it," she explained. Watanuki would need to know the rules of the shop one day, and instilling these lessons in him now would make the transition easier. "If I keep this feather a while longer, their suffering will make a sufficient payment, and they won't have to forfeit something else to get it."

"But . . . So, that guy with the glass eye . . ."

"He paid for a way to save Syaoran-kun's life, as well as to land in a world with another feather to replace this one. Truthfully, it wasn't a fair price—a life is worth more than any magical artifact, no matter how powerful—but Seishirou has brought me many useful things since I gave him the means to traverse the dimensions, and it was within the bounds of my interference to help him save the boy."

Watanuki watched her turn the glass container in her hands as she spoke. Contained within was the feather Seishirou had exchanged for the enchanted bulb. Its magic signature was blocked by the capsule's walls. "Fuuma-san sent that, didn't he? The case."

"Yes. Since he is also benefiting from Seishirou's wish, I am considering this part of the price."

"Doesn't the person who makes the wish have to pay the price on their own?"

"That's the way it's supposed to be," she murmured, glancing down at the black and white tiled floor. "But in this case, the price would've been too great for Seishirou. So I took this capsule as part of that payment, to ease his burden."

Watanuki looked at her for a long moment, his expression turning thoughtful as he considered the exchange. "There have been times when I've thought your prices have been unfair," he said slowly, eyes flashing over to her as if he expected a rebuke for saying so. Yuuko waited for him to elaborate, crossing one leg over the other and shifting the container in her arms. "but I see now that you really _are _doing your best to make a fair trade, whoever you're dealing with."

She nodded. "It is within the bounds of my interference to exact prices from multiple parties. I try to avoid doing so, when I can, especially when the situation is as hopeless as this one. But even so . . ." She glanced at the portal the Black Mokona had set up. In the image, Seishirou was leaning over his bedridden brother, feeding him soup by the spoonful. "I hope he succeeds. As much as the laws of the universe are against him, I hope he is able to grant his wish."

Watanuki nodded. "Because that's your price? To grant the wishes of anyone with the means to pay?"

"In a way," she said simply. The truth was a tangled mask of qualifications and natural laws, but she supposed keeping the balance was part of her duty, too. _My price. What an apt way to put it. _"Watanuki, I have something I need you to do."

"Yes, Yuuko-san?"

She stood up and walked over to him, the magic-resistant capsule still in her arms. "I want you to take this downstairs and put it somewhere it won't be seen. Cover it up if you have to. It is a thing of great power, and I don't want to lose it before it can be exchanged."

He took the capsule and bowed. "I understand."

_Yes, but do you understand the price paid for you to be here? _she wondered, as he disappeared down the steps.

* * *

><p>The first thing Kurogane realized when they settled in for sword practice was that the princess had absolutely no aptitude for weapons at all.<p>

"It's _heavy_," she said, holding up the sword they'd bought so the tip pointed toward the sky. It was a cheap thing, more equipped for basic training than actual combat, but Infinity was evidently not famous for its metalwork, so it would have to serve until they fell in a country that was.

"Of course it's heavy," he said. "That's why you practice with it. Once your arms are stronger, you'll be able to hold it up."

She held the weapon awkwardly, her arms sticking straight out like she was holding a flag instead of a sword, her stance too narrow to keep her body stable. But because this was her first day of training, and because he had nothing better to do until the next game of human chess, he spent ten minutes correcting her stance and explaining why she needed to hold the sword properly. "You won't be ready to fight anyone for a good while, but you'll at least _look _like you know what you're doing, and a good bluff can deter an enemy."

She nodded, focused.

"Now, see if you can take a step forward without messing up your stance," he said.

Kurogane watched carefully as she obeyed, paying attention to her damaged leg. She moved exactly as he'd expected: her stance narrowed several inches, and her crippled leg met the ground at an odd angle, so her feet were no longer parallel. He said as much, allowing her to correct herself before moving on.

"It's better," he said, when she had made the proper adjustments. "Now try it again."

Training Syaoran had been almost easy compared to this. The kid had possessed a decent background in fighting, and knew how to move and defend himself. With the princess's lack of training, Kurogane suspected the road was going to be a lot more difficult.

_We all started out like that, though,_ he thought. _Maybe she'll surprise me. _"Again," he commanded, as she stepped forward. "Your stance is still too narrow. Bend your arms more, or you'll break an elbow when someone hits you."

She corrected herself with the next step. "Again."

When her leg came down, her foot settled awkwardly in the grass. "You have to keep your feet parallel," he reminded her, trying to modulate his voice so he sounded patient. "Learning a proper stance now will save us both the headache of correcting it later."

"I can't," she said quietly.

"You have to."

"It doesn't bend right anymore. It hurts to move it like that."

He sighed. "Look, I told you this was a big commitment. You're going to be sore, and you're going to have days where you hate me for working you like this, but you have to learn the basics. If you don't, you'll never be able to defend yourself in a real fight."

"But—"

"Listen to me. I know that wound is only a month old. I know it seems like there's no way to work around it right now. But if the other kid can fight with one eye blind, you can fight with a bum leg."

Frustration flashed across her face, mixing with anger. Her reaction surprised him, not because he thought the training wouldn't elicit those emotions, but because he was so used to seeing his old apprentice grit his teeth and take it without complaint.

_It doesn't matter how many students you take on, _some part of him thought. _You will always compare them to the kid. As long as you have someone to teach, there will never be a day that goes by that you don't have to think about it. _He looked away, staring at the lines in the sidewalk.

After a moment, Sakura lifted a hand to wipe the budding tears from her eyes. "I'm not giving up," she whispered. "I can't give up. Syaoran-kun never would've quit over something like this."

_Neither of them, _he thought, gritting his teeth to keep from saying so. The princess knew what she meant, and that was enough.

She took a fighting stance again, wincing as she adjusted her foot so it sat at the proper angle.

"Tomorrow, we'll spend some time stretching that leg out. It's too stiff the way it is."

"Okay." She lifted the cheap sword, being careful.

_At least she respects the weapon, _he thought, seeing the resolve in her features, the caution in her eyes. _There may be hope for her yet._

"Again."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_I put the first section in because someone wanted to know why Seishirou's feather hadn't found its way back to our heroes yet. It made most sense to tell it from Yuuko's perspective, as cryptic as she is, but it may be inconsistent with the events of XXXHolic, since I haven't read that series yet. So anyway, we'll just say that since this is technically and AU, Watanuki and Yuuko had that conversation, and that whatever was going on in XXXHolic at the time doesn't interfere with this scene._


	44. Crippled

Chapter Forty-Four

Syaoran hadn't tried to eavesdrop, but his sharpened hearing picked up on the conversation.

"_He's the only one besides you I would trust with this," _Seishirou had said, though the task he was referring to was still some obscure _thing _to Syaoran's mind.

_He trusts me. He really does. But what else did he say about me? _Syaoran wondered, trying to remember how his teacher had phrased it. _That I had a goal I would sacrifice anything to achieve, but that I also had honor? _He frowned, thinking of how pathetically he'd tried to win the affection of his traveling companions in Infinity, how he'd failed to stop his clone from destroying everything in Tokyo, how he could not even make Sakura smile despite wearing the same face as the one she cared about. _What sort of honor do I have, when I can't even accomplish that much? What makes Seishirou think there's anything in me worth cultivating? _

Seishirou slipped out of Fuuma's room, holding an empty soup bowl in one hand and closing the door quietly with the other. He walked over to the kitchenette and set the bowl in the sink. The hotels here in Avantine seemed like a hybrid of the inns Syaoran had seen in other countries and the apartments in Infinity. Though the hotel room obviously wasn't meant for long-term habitation, it still had some of the more permanent utilities of an apartment, such as a small stove and a refrigerator.

It almost felt like the room they'd had in Infinity, before the fire had burned the building down.

Syaoran turned to Seishirou, gauging the older man's mood. With his brother dying in the other room, Syaoran had expected Seishirou to be frustrated, sad, or depressed. It surprised him to see a warm smile grace the dark-haired man's lips.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, not sure what else to say.

"Yes, he finished the whole bowl, and now he's sleeping again."

It had surprised Syaoran to realize Fuuma had been lucid at all, given his wasted features and previous days of unconsciousness. He'd thought the man had slipped into a permanent coma, and that was why Seishirou had resorted to tracking him down. In a way, he thought it might've been better—not easier, but better—for Fuuma to stay comatose, to slip away quietly before causing Seishirou any more grief. After a few months of unconsciousness, even Seishirou would have to give in, would have to accept the inevitable loss. Lingering between a deep coma and a few lucid moments seemed like the universe's way of giving the dark-haired man hope.

_A hope that might not be fulfilled, _Syaoran thought. He'd heard enough of their conversation to know that, even with whatever his teacher was planning, Fuuma might not pull through. _And then this will all have been for nothing._

"So, we've got a few days to kill before we have to get going," his teacher said. Syaoran glanced up. "You said you wanted to learn more about fighting."

"Yes."

Seishirou's smile widened. "Excellent. Help me move this couch out of the way, and we can practice in here."

Syaoran frowned, then remembered this was probably a safer alternative than going outside to practice, with the police searching for them. _Safer for us, and safer for the people of the city. _

"What are we learning about?" he asked, taking his end of the couch and sliding it across the floor. With his newfound strength, moving furniture was as easy as carrying groceries. He didn't even have to worry about straining a muscle. His vampire body knew how to lift and how to push heavy objects without stressing any muscle too much.

"In Clow Country, I taught you to kick because the length of your legs would compensate for your lack of depth perception. But now that you've learned how to sense enemies without seeing them, I can teach you how to fight with your hands, too."

Syaoran noticed the way his teacher avoided mentioning the person who had taught him to sense objects while blind. _It doesn't matter now, _he told himself. _I meant nothing to any of them, and he never meant to train_ me._ My only loyalty was to Sakura._

_That's not true, _some small part of him argued. _Why would Kurogane-san have bothered to start teaching you again if you meant nothing to him? Why would they all have tolerated you for so long if they hated you so much?_

He remembered something he'd overheard, a snippet of conversation between Fai and Kurogane. He couldn't remember the exact words, but Kurogane had implied he'd only been teaching him things that they could defend against if he happened to turn on them. _None of them trusted you. Not once. What does it matter if you learned something from them?_

_Besides, _he thought, remembering the pain of claws piercing his chest._ they betrayed you, too._

"You're brooding again," Seishirou said.

"Oh. Sorry."

"You want to talk about it?"

Syaoran shook his head. "It's nothing important. I was just running through some old conversations in my head."

His teacher looked troubled, but said nothing as he walked across the front room and took a fighting stance. "Okay. Come at me, and I'll show you how to use your opponent's momentum against them."

Syaoran braced himself and darted forward, moving as only a vampire could. As he came within range, his teacher's hand shot out and snatched his wrist. Seishirou pulled him, following his momentum and moving aside so he wouldn't get hit. The extra force from his teacher's grip sent Syaoran flying forward, and his face hit the carpet with a jarring impact. He got to his feet, swaying a little bit as he recovered.

"The technique simple, but it's saved my life a dozen times. You'd do well to learn it."

He nodded solemnly.

"Good. Now we switch places, and you try."

Syaoran braced himself for the impact as Seishirou rushed toward him.

* * *

><p>Sakura's tailbone hit the ground hard enough to send jolts of pain through the rest of her body. "Ow."<p>

"Stand up," Kurogane said, extending a hand to help her. Mind hazy with pain, she took his hand and got to her feet. A fresh wave of agony shot up her leg, and she went down again.

"Can we be done for the day?" she asked from the ground, though Kurogane hadn't let her go early even once.

"You're going to be in a lot more pain if you get into a fight and can't defend yourself."

Suppressing a groan, she pressed her palms against the grass and rose to her feet. Keeping her foot turned at the right angle for all the stances had made her ankle ache the first few days, but now, every time she stood, agony would tear through her leg, and tears would form in her eyes. She wiped a hand across her eyes, wiping away the saltwater before it could run down her cheeks.

She heard a quiet sigh. "We can be done for the day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're not going to learn much if you're in pain, so there's no point in staying out."

The words sounded empty, as if he was only saying them for the sake of finishing off the day. It struck her as odd that Kurogane would say something so meaningless—he was a man of few words, so whenever he spoke, there was a purpose to it. Hearing the blankness in his voice worried her. "Is something wrong?"

"My apprentice is dead. Everything's fine."

She winced at the sarcasm. She knew the others were suffering right alongside her, knew that it was selfish to stand around feeling sorry for herself when everyone was still mourning, but part of her _wanted _to be selfish, to break down where she stood at the sardonic comment.

She didn't. They walked back to the apartment.

Fai-san was making dinner for the first time since he'd killed Syaoran-kun. He looked over when she limped inside. "Good evening, Sakura-chan."

She stared at him. He was making blueberry pancakes, her favorite.

No one spoke. Kurogane stared at a wall, his spine rigid. Fai flipped the pancake he was making off the pan and onto a plate.

Sakura realized she'd been wrong about being in too much pain to go on. She turned and stalked out the door, fighting the tears as they blurred her vision. As she broke into a run, she realized her crippled leg wasn't what was making progress so difficult. It was the grief and frustration holding her back. It was the crippled heart that longed for either Syaoran, the crippled heart that would never be healed, no matter how long she lived.


	45. Refused

Chapter Forty-Five

It took ten minutes to learn the technique Seishirou had shown him, and while he knew his teacher was purposely allowing himself to be taken down, Syaoran couldn't help but feel a little satisfied when he heard him hit the ground.

"I think you've got it," Seishirou said, stretching out his shoulders as if the multiple impacts had actually hurt. _That's something else to learn, _Syaoran thought. _I have to react to my injuries like they hurt, even if this body is more resistant to pain._

"What do we get to work on next?"

The older man shrugged. "What do you want to work on?"

Syaoran thought about that for a moment, his mind flitting through the dozens of techniques Seishirou had used since they'd started traveling together. "You picked that lock at the shipyard. Can you teach me how to do that?"

Seishirou arched one black eyebrow. "We're going from fighting to picking locks?"

"It seems like a useful skill. I might end up in another situation like that, where picking the lock would be less conspicuous than kicking down a door."

"Not all locks are created equal, Syaoran-kun. What I teach you here might not be useful for locks in other countries."

"I know, but it seemed to work here just fine."

"We got lucky. In a world like this, an electronic keypad or retina-scanning device would be more common. And in other worlds, the lock system will be more complex than what I can show you."

"I'd still like to learn," he said. Any piece of information was potentially valuable, and he didn't want to lose the chance to pick up this particular skill. _It would've served me well half a dozen times already, _he thought.

Seishirou smiled. "I suppose you would. Come on then, there's a lock we can work with on the bedroom door."

Syaoran followed his teacher to the door, then watched as he slipped two pieces of twisted metal out of his shirt pocket. "You slip this piece in first," he said, holding up the appropriate tool. Syaoran nodded. "It acts sort of like the body of the key, stabilizing the lock so that you can manipulate the mechanism inside. Then, you take the second piece and move it just above the first one. Now, it'll depend on exactly what tools you have at your disposal, but this kind of lock is fairly easy to break through, so we'll start here."

He nodded again, watching the thinner piece slide on top of the other.

"You'll have to practice this part to get the feel for breaking in. It's both a twisting motion, and an up and down motion. Once you're used to that, you should be able to feel the gears sliding around inside the lock and . . . There." Seishirou turned the knob and let the door swing open. His hand caught around the other side and locked it again. "Now you try."

Syaoran took the tools in his hand and knelt down next to the lock.

"I'm going to tend to my brother," Seishirou said. "Practice until you can pick the lock in less than thirty seconds."

"Okay." He turned his attention back to the lock and started working. Behind him, he heard Seishirou running water in the bathtub. By the time Syaoran inserted the second piece of metal into the lock, his teacher had dragged Fuuma into the bathroom. It seemed so strange. Back in Clow, Seishirou had seemed like an interesting, if somewhat cryptic, warrior. Seeing him in a caretaking role was somewhat jarring. _Everyone has someone they would do anything for, _he thought, his concentration slipping from the lock as he thought of Sakura.

_I would do anything for her, _he thought. _I would die for her, kill for her, suffer for her. And she will never smile for me._

_It's not your place, _some distant part of him thought. His shoulders slumped a little. _It shouldn't matter to you what she thinks. You're nothing to her. She doesn't know anything about you. She doesn't even know your real name._

He frowned, a familiar expression on his face. _None of them knew my name. That's something else I lied about._ He hadn't meant to lie about that, hadn't meant to keep such basic information from his friends, even after the painful ostracism he'd experienced at their hands. But somewhere along the line, he had gotten used to being referred to by the Other's name.

_Names have power. It's better if they don't know who I am. Better if they don't even know I'm alive. _

He continued manipulating the lock, trying to get a feel for the mechanisms. It was a lot more difficult than Seishirou had made it out to be, and he spent almost half an hour working before he heard the distinct series of _clicks_ that marked his success. He turned the knob and let the door swing open, pleased with his work. Then he locked it from the other side and shut it. _Let's see if we can do it faster this time._

* * *

><p>"We should probably be moving on to the next world," Sakura said one day, after they collected their winnings from the another game of human chess. Fai glanced over to see the solemn look on her face.<p>

She didn't look back at him.

"There's not much point in staying unless there's another feather in this world," Kurogane said.

Mokona poked its head out of the ninja's shirt. Fai noticed Kurogane showed no reaction to the invasion. "Mokona senses no more feathers in this world."

"We'll go tomorrow morning," the ninja decided.

"If we're going to go, don't you want to leave as soon as possible?" Fai asked, the longest handful of words he'd said in the two weeks since his curse had been activated. The ninja glanced over, his gaze as sharp as the edge of a sword. Fai went on, trying to ignore the silent accusation in that stare. "You're trying to go back to your home world, aren't you? Don't you want to hurry?"

"We'll get there when we get there." Flat and emotionless, the words served no purpose except to stave off further conversation. _Empty words, _Fai thought, wondering how things had come to this. He'd realized the others were grieving, realized it when Sakura had run off and sobbed in the stairwell for an hour the other day, but this was something beyond mere sorrow. It was as if both the others had lost their will to move forward. _Just like me._

They walked to their apartment, and headed up in the elevator. The silence, though expected, pressed on Fai's eardrums like a heavy weight. It was every bit the ostracism the new Syaoran had faced after Tokyo, but now directed at him. _I deserve it, _he thought bitterly, wrapping his arms around his chest as if for warmth. _I destroyed everything. _

They reached their apartment and went inside. Like always, Sakura grabbed the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet and handed bandages to each of them before retiring to her room.

"Kurogane," he said after a moment.

The ninja ignored him, bandaging the small cut he'd gotten in the fight. Using his sword to deflect an oncoming dagger had saved him from the worst of the damage, but the enemy's blade had still left a narrow slice in his upper arm, and Fai could smell the sweet blood dripping from it. He bit his lip, trying to fight off the sudden hunger. _It's been too long, _he thought. _If I don't feed soon, I'll start getting weaker._

_And isn't that exactly what you deserve? _another part of his mind demanded. _After all you've done, after all they've suffered because of you, don't you deserve to starve? _

"Kurogane," he said again, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"What?" the ninja demanded, refusing to look at him.

_All you have to do is ask. No matter how furious he is, he won't let you starve. _Fai lost his nerve, eyes dropping to the floor. "Never mind."

The ninja sighed. Fai stood up and started walking to his bedroom. He stopped at the doorway.

"You haven't fed since the kid died," Kurogane muttered. That was all he said.

"I haven't," he agreed.

"Why not?"

_Because I want to die. _He swallowed thickly.

"Do you really think the kid would want you to starve yourself like this?" the ninja asked. The question hung in the air like carbon monoxide, poisoning them.

After several seconds, the ninja went on. "The kid would've hated it. He would've felt guilty if you did something so stupid because of him."

_He's dead now. _Fai leaned against the doorframe. "I know that."

The dark-haired man sighed, exasperated. "So why don't you ask? You have to ask, when you're hungry."

_Stop torturing me like this! _Fai bit back the words before they could reach his tongue. _I won't ask. I'd rather die. _He had that much pride, at least. It would be weeks yet before he starved. The small discomfort he was feeling now was only one more thing toward his eventually atonement. _If I can even redeem myself after this._

"I won't ask," he whispered, just loud enough for the ninja to hear.

A cold silence overtook the living room once again. After a while, Fai began to wonder if the ninja was going to reply to that, or if he should just go to bed. Just as he was about to move through the door, Kurogane said, "Then I won't offer."


	46. Controlled

_Author's Note:_

_This chapter will jump around a lot. Don't be surprised if the scene shifts after just a few paragraphs._

* * *

><p>Chapter Forty-Six<p>

Syaoran knew he should've been freezing, but despite the blanket of snow on the ground, his body felt perfectly warm. When he saw the Other, he realized why.

_Another dream, _he thought, his breath coming quicker as he braced himself. _Another nightmare._

The Other snapped a branch off one of the trees and dragged it over to a pile of twigs he'd assembled. He glanced up, his mismatched eyes staring emptily at Syaoran, acknowledging his presence. Syaoran shied away.

The Other returned his attention to the growing pile of branches. He loped off, not stopping until he found a suitable tree to rip a branch from. He shook the snow off, letting it come down in a sparkly shower on his head, before taking the branch and pulling down by the base. Syaoran winced at the sound of splintering wood as he might have at the sound of snapping bones.

* * *

><p>Syaoran sat up in his bed, his movements sluggish with sleep. Without really thinking about it, he swept the sheets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feet scraping softly against the carpet. That was one problem with this hotel room. The carpet was too rough. He was only barefoot because he hated sleeping in his socks.<p>

He walked over to the dresser, still only vaguely aware of his surroundings. It felt as if there was something else he should be doing, some task he'd intended to finish, but he couldn't remember what it was. The drawer came open with a deep rumble. The sound seemed strange somehow. Too low and drawn out. Not the right sound at all.

Nonetheless, he donned a pair of socks, purchased two days ago by Seishirou, and abandoned his room.

* * *

><p>His clone carried the broken branch back to the pile and snapped it in half, pulling up on both ends as his foot crushed down on the middle. Once that was done, he knelt down in the snow and started sweeping aside the white drifts with his arm. A circle of barren dirt appeared where he worked. He picked bits and pieces from the wood pile and gathered them up in a tent-like structure.<p>

_He's making a fire, _Syaoran realized, still watching from above.

The Other set up the other side of the wooden tent, keeping everything balanced, organized. His expression was not as empty as it usually was. More than anything, he looked focused, deep in thought as he assembled the little pile. With great care, he twisted up pieces of wilted grass, apparently torn from beneath the snow, and added them to the base of the unlit campfire.

The whole episode was bizarrely normal. When Syaoran dreamed of his clone, the things he witnessed were fit for a horror story. Starting a campfire seemed so mundane compared to slaughtering innocents.

_Why have you brought me here? _he wanted to ask, though _who _the question should be aimed at eluded him. Was it supposed to be directed toward his subconscious mind? Did the dream have greater significance than it appeared? Or was it directed at the Other? Was his clone even in control of these visions?

He didn't know, and that frustrated him.

* * *

><p>Syaoran walked into the tiny kitchenette, then stopped, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing. Slowly, his arms reached up to the cupboard above the stove and pulled. The little door swung open easily. <em>I thought it would take more force than that, <em>he thought distantly. He reached in and pulled a box of dried noodles from the cupboard and opened them. In his grogginess, he tilted the box too far, and half the noodles spilled out, falling to the floor with a series of percussive taps.

He knelt down, setting the box aside. His numb fingers—_They're numb from the cold. I should be wearing gloves_—fumbled with the dropped noodles for several seconds, sweeping them in various directions before he managed to pick up a fistful of the thin sticks. He snapped them in half, pulling up at both ends while his thumbs pressed down on the center. The dry noodles snapped in half, little splinters falling to the floor. Syaoran stood up, holding the broken noodles in his hands, unsure what had compelled him to break them in the first place. He had no pot of water to put them in, and he wasn't even hungry to begin with. He had just . . . needed to.

_To keep warm, _some faraway part of his mind told him._ I need to start a fire._

* * *

><p>The sound of something moving in the kitchen stirred Seishirou from his fretful sleep, and he leapt out of bed, landing like a cat on the floor. Without a conscious thought, he'd pulled his magic sword from inside his body and brought it up to face the threat.<p>

The sounds in the kitchen continued. It seemed too loud for it to be a normal intruder. Thieves tried not to be heard. Perhaps his vampire senses were fine-tuned enough to misinterpret subtle sounds as alarming ones. He moved toward the kitchen, peeking into Fuuma's room to make sure the unconscious man was unharmed. He appeared much the same as he'd been for weeks.

Seishirou peeked into the Little Wolf's room and realized with a start that the boy was not in bed. He returned his attention to the sounds coming from the kitchen, moving his sword into a defensive position as he advanced.

The Little Wolf was in the middle of some bizarre task, snapping dry noodles in his hands. More were scattered across the floor. _That's probably what woke me up, _Seishirou thought, relaxing his guard and pulling the sword back inside his body. Now that he was more alert, he could tell there was no one else in the hotel room. "What are you doing, Syaoran-kun?"

The boy didn't answer, just moved toward the stove and set the dry noodles over the burner, stacking them up like he was trying to build a campfire. Seishirou watched with fascination as he repeated this motion with another handful of noodles scavenged from the floor.

"Syaoran-kun?"

No answer.

* * *

><p>His clone had acquired traveling gear since Syaoran had last dreamed of him. He pulled a bedroll out of his pack and laid it down next to the unlit fire. <em>So normal, <em>Syaoran thought, wondering if he'd finally have a dream that didn't end with him choking back a scream. Once the Other was settled, sitting cross-legged on his bedroll, he lifted his hand in the air. Syaoran tensed, wondering what kind of dark magic his clone was about to use.

The Other twisted his hand in a small circle, as if lighting the burner on a stove. Fingers of flame stole over the kindling, igniting it so rapidly that, if he'd had a physical form, Syaoran would've recoiled from the flash. The fire took to the more resilient branches with ease, burning brilliant orange for several seconds before dropping down to the level of a normal fire. The Other sidled closer to the fire and moved his hands—bare despite the cold—so they rested over the flames.

* * *

><p>From what Seishirou had heard of sleepwalking, it was generally a harmless, if clumsy, ordeal, something that disappeared after childhood. As he watched Syaoran's hand move down to the black knob on the stove, however, any notion of this being a harmless affliction fled his mind. "Wake up, Little Wolf," he said, loud enough for his voice to carry to the boy's sensitive ears without waking Fuuma in the other room.<p>

No response. The front burner on the stove came to life, its flames glowing with an eerie blue light. The noodles Syaoran had piled on top of the burner took the fire and turned it orange, the sticks blackening as the flames consumed them. Seishirou stared, rooted to that spot. _What in the multiverse is he _doing_? _

Syaoran stared at the flames, pupils reflecting the glowing orange pinpricks of light. After a moment, he lifted his hand and moved it closer over the fire. The sheer stupidity of the action knocked Seishirou out of his fascinated stupor. He loped forward and snatched the Little Wolf's wrist, pulling his hand away from the fire.

Surprise flickered across the boy's face, the first real emotion he'd worn since Seishirou had started watching him. "What do you think you're doing?" Seishirou demanded. The boy stared up at him with wide eyes, alarmed by his disapproval. His gaze then flickered over to the stove, still alight. Horror flashed across his face. "Impossible."

The disbelief in his tone surprised Seishirou. _He really has no idea just how close he came to burning his own fingers off. Astonishing._

Syaoran's face lost all color, as if the skin itself had been bleached. He shook his head, denial written across his features. "I didn't . . . The Other . . ."

"What about the Other?" Seishirou asked, trying to sound more sympathetic. He knew this was a touchy subject for the boy.

Syaoran's breath quickened, and he clamped a hand over his mouth, as if trying to suppress a scream. A quiet squeak escaped his control, and he staggered back a step, until his shoulder hit the wall.

"What's wrong?"

Syaoran looked up at him, eyes wide with fear. "The Other can get inside my head."


	47. Scared

Chapter Forty-Seven

His teacher blinked, not understanding the significance of the words.

_The Other can control me from my dreams, _Syaoran thought, feeling hollow._ He can make my body move without my permission, take control of me when I'm at my most vulnerable . . . _He wrapped his arms around his torso, shivering from the cold. _No, not the cold. It was cold there, not here. This is fear. _

His eyes flickered once again to the burner on the stove. The dry noodles—_those were branches in the dream, weren't they?—_had mostly burned up, leaving fragile, black skeletons behind. Still, the wispy blue flames of the burning gas cast an eerie glow across the miniscule kitchen.

Seishirou saw him staring at it, and moved to turn it off. With his enhanced vision, the lack of light did little to blind him. He looked up at his teacher, unable to say anything.

"You were just sleepwalking. You should go back to bed."

_He doesn't believe me, _Syaoran thought, feeling irrationally betrayed. It was like trying to tell the truth to Fai-san or Kurogane-san—he could probably do it, but it would open up so many sensitive questions that he would have to start lying, and they'd never believe him. He could never tell anyone _anything_. "I can't," he mumbled, voice quavering. He knew he sounded like a whining toddler, but after what had just happened—waking up to feel the flames nipping hungrily at his fingertips—he couldn't bear the thought of going to sleep. "Please, I'll have nightmares. He can get in. He can get in through my dreams."

The dark-haired man studied him for a long moment. "You fear him."

Syaoran nodded once, humiliated. "He's getting stronger. I used to only dream of him once every few nights, but it's becoming more frequent. And now, I just . . ." _I just followed his every movement like I was under a spell. Oh god, what if he takes control of me like that next time he kills someone? Will I be able to stop myself? I don't even remember how I got here. _His breathing started to speed up again, and a soft whimper broke free of his throat. "How long will it be until he's strong enough to take control of me during the day? How long until he's invading my every waking thought? I can't live with this." The confession broke him. He doubled over, clamping his hand down over his mouth. "I can't . . ." he mumbled.

"Just relax. Everything will be all right."

He shook his head. "It won't. If he can get in . . . I might hurt someone next time. He might . . . I would . . ."

Seishirou rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. Impulsively, Syaoran darted forward and pressed his face into the other man's shirt, stifling the sob building at the back of his throat. "I need help."

"Everything we'll be fine. Avantine is a very advanced world. I'm sure they have medicine to suppress dreams."

_But only that much, _he thought. _Nothing to stop my clone from getting into my head if he gets more powerful. And he will, it he keeps finding feathers. _He closed his eyes, struggling to regain control of himself.

"There, there, don't you worry. We'll pick up some medicine first thing tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" he echoed, voice hoarse.

Seishirou smiled, not his usual confident smile, nor the amused one he sometimes wore, but a sympathetic smile. "The drugstore won't be open for hours yet. Until then, you just have to relax and go back to sleep."

Syaoran felt the irrational fear creeping up on him again. _I can't, I can't, I can't . . . If I sleep, I'll have nightmares. _

_Be reasonable, _another part of him snapped. _There's nothing to be done about it until tomorrow. You just have to lie down in bed and pretend to sleep._

He pulled away from his teacher, embarrassed to have clung to him like he had. "I can wait until morning," he whispered.

Seishirou's smile turned jolly. "Good. Now back to bed."

"Okay." He turned and allowed Seishirou to walk him to his bedroom. Once inside, he closed and locked his door. Then he unlocked it. _No reason to be worried about that here. _

Then he locked it again. Just to be safe.

He stripped off his socks—_when did I put socks on?_—and sat down on the edge of his bed.

He stayed awake until the sun came up.

* * *

><p>Kurogane didn't sleep that night. He spent the earlier part of the night polishing Souhi, though the blade was still shiny from its last polishing. There wasn't much else to do once everyone else had gone to sleep, and he didn't especially feel like getting drunk when they could fall into any situation tomorrow.<p>

In Tomoyo's service, he'd often gone several nights at a time with nothing more than a brief meditation to reinvigorate himself. By nature, he was a light sleeper, aware of what was going on around him even in unconsciousness. So his body was used to going without sleep. He could stay awake for their last night in Infinity.

"Is Kurogane still sad?"

His head whipped around, hand going to his sword before he realized it was only the white pork bun. "No."

The round creature—even after traveling to many different worlds, he had no idea what _kind _of creature the thing was—jumped up onto the chair, and then onto the table. A small frown turned down its face. "Does Kurogane miss Syaoran-kun, then?"

Kurogane glared at the manju bun. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Mokona can sense when someone is sad. It's one of Mokona's one-hundred-and-eight special techniques."

"I'm not _sad_."

"But Kurogane misses him, doesn't he?"

His hand tightened around Souhi's hilt, and he contemplated bringing the blade down on the white thing's head. Of course, he still needed the creature to take him home. "He was a good student," he finally said, sliding Souhi back into its sheath so it wouldn't tempt him.

"Sakura misses him, too."

"I know." That had been obvious enough when he'd heard the girl sobbing in her room.

"And Fai misses him."

The ninja's fingers coiled into a fist. That damn mage was the last person he wanted to think about right now. "Maybe he shouldn't have killed him then."

"He was under a curse."

"Which he didn't fucking tell anyone about until after he—" He bit back the words, as if saying them aloud would reopen the wound.

"Mokona has sensed a great sadness from Fai for a long time now."

_He ought to be suffering. That bastard._ "So?"

"This tragedy has affected him greatly. Mokona thinks . . . Mokona thinks he needs someone to talk to."

"Then talk to him. What the hell do I care?"

"He wants to talk to Sakura, but he doesn't want to make her suffer. Mokona thinks he would like it if Kurogane talked to him."

He slammed his fist down on the table and stood up. "Then he can get his ass in here and come talk to me. I'm not about to go baby-sit him, like some stupid kid."

The manju bun's eyes flew open. "Yuuko is calling."

The shift in conversation threw him for a moment, and the only response he could muster was, "Does she know what _time _it is?"

A soft glow emanated from the red gem on the creature's forehead, and a circle of light appeared on the table, featuring the witch. Though the ninja had seen devices do similar things in some of the worlds they'd visited, he still found it eerie that the witch could pop in any time for a chat. "What is it?" he grumbled.

The dark-haired witch looked up at him solemnly, and while he didn't exactly regret his tone, he wished he'd been a little less abrasive.

Her solemn look didn't change as she spoke. "I have a message. It concerns all of you."

"Everyone's asleep." He didn't care to wake the princess when she was already so exhausted from training, and the mage was a pain in the ass to wake up if he wasn't ready to do so.

"It's urgent."

_To Hell with this. _He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to suggest she just pass the message on through him, but she interrupted.

"It's from Seishirou."

_Well damn. _"I'll go wake them up."


	48. Returned

Chapter Forty-Eight

Sakura woke at a knock on her door. _It's morning already? It can't be, it's still dark outside. _She blinked sleepily, rubbing the corners of her eyes with her thumb and letting her legs slide over the edge of the bed. "Come in," she called softly, hoping she'd be able to avoid putting weight on her crippled leg.

The door opened with a faint _click_. Kurogane peeked his head inside, his expression unreadable. "The witch is calling."

_Why is Yuuko up at this hour? _she wondered before remembering the time differences in each world. "Coming."

The door clicked shut, and she donned a floor-length robe that concealed both her nightgown and her leg brace. Trying to make herself presentable, she ran a comb through her hair and spent another moment rubbing the sand from her eyes. When she could find nothing else to do, she pressed her hands against the headboard and let her good leg drop to the floor, bearing her weight. After a long moment, the other came down with an audible _clunk_. She winced.

She hobbled over to the door, hearing every footfall her crippled leg made across the hardwood floor, and went out to the living room. All the others were already there, watching her as she entered. She averted her eyes, drawing the robe tighter around herself. "Good evening, Yuuko-san," she said, looking into the circle of light. The witch nodded in greeting, then spoke.

"I have a message to pass on to all of you, from Seishirou."

A ripple of movement passed across the circle. Fai flinched, his nails jutting out several inches before he regained control of his body. Kurogane shifted his weight, seeming almost resigned to the news. Sakura felt an unfamiliar rush of anger at the object of their conversation. _He got what he wanted. He took Syaoran. Why does he want to talk to us?_

Yuuko smiled and lifted something up off the floor. Sakura gasped. "My feather!"

"Don't take it back," Kurogane said. "He could've put a spell on it."

"I've checked," Yuuko said, eyes narrowing a little at the implication. "Seishirou gave it to me as payment for saving Syaoran-kun's life."

Another ripple, this one more intense than the last. Kurogane slammed a hand down on the edge of the table, and Fai had to steady himself to keep from falling over. "Do you mean—"the magician began.

"You still fulfilled the requirements of your curse. You stopped his heart, however briefly. The curse will not plague you a second time."

Fai blinked and slowly sank to the floor.

Sakura realized how close she'd come to the circle. "So he's alive?"

The witch nodded. "Syaoran is alive, though not in the same state he was previously."

The expressions of joy got stuck in her throat. "Not in the . . . What do you mean?"

"You will find out, next time you meet him. Don't worry; he's fine."

Kurogane interrupted for the first time. "But he was _dead_."

"The definition of death carries different connotations in every dimension. In some dimensions, such as Fai's, the moment the heart stops, death is permanent. In more advanced worlds such as Infinity, there are techniques that can keep a body alive after the heart has stopped beating—chest compressions, life support, and the like. Since Fai was cursed under the rules on his own world, the requirements of his curse were met when Syaoran's heart stopped. Because Syaoran's heart stopped in Infinity, however, his body obeyed the laws of that world, and he was given a slim chance to survive—a chance which Seishirou turned into certainty."

Everyone stared at the witch, rapt. She smiled mischievously. "The ways of the multiverse are strange, but because so many possible outcomes exist, there are opportunities to manipulate the natural order of things in your favor. It is Hitsuzen, you see."

"Hitsuzen," Sakura echoed. Something about her tone must've alarmed the others because each of them glanced over to her.

"All things happen for a reason. If Hitsuzen wills it, you will see Syaoran again."

Sakura felt like her lungs were about to implode. Fresh tears burned down her cheeks. She barely made it to the kitchen chair without falling. _If Hitsuzen wills it?_ she thought bitterly. _Since when has Hitsuzen ever helped us? Did it stop the other Syaoran from hurting Fai? Did it stop us from landing in Tokyo? Did it stop me from becoming a cripple?_

"Sakura . . ." Mokona whispered, alarmed by her sudden emotional turmoil. "Why are you so sad?"

She just shook her head, pressing her hand against her face to stop the flow of tears. If there had ever been a time when she'd wept out of sheer rage, she couldn't remember it.

"Sakura-chan," Fai said—the first words he'd dared to say to her since he'd . . .

_Syaoran's not dead, _she thought, her fury dying as swiftly as it had come._ That's something, at least. You can pick up the pieces._

She thought of her leg brace, of her failures at sword practice, of Fai telling her how he'd killed Syaoran. Her shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just a bit much."

"Don't you get all weepy now," Kurogane grumbled. "That kid'll need you most of all when we track him down."

She shook her head. "He doesn't need me." _He never would've left, if he had._

"Bullshit."

Sakura winced.

Yuuko went on, sensing a lull in the conversation. "If you are ready, I can send the feather. The price has already been paid."

"By who?" Fai asked.

"By all of you. In exchange for your suffering, you will receive the feather without further payment."

Kurogane looked at her suspiciously. "That's generous."

Yuuko ignored him, turning toward Sakura. "Are you ready to receive your feather?"

Sakura stood up, straightening her shoulders and wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. "I'm ready."

The witch held the long, white object up. It seemed to disintegrate, the particles dispersing in the air before they shot out of Mokona's mouth. Normally, Syaoran would've plucked the feather from the air and presented it to her, standing by her side to catch her when she fell.

Syaoran was not here, and when the feather sunk into her chest, a different pair of hands caught her. She looked up to see a single blue eye above her before the world disappeared into darkness.

* * *

><p>"These will keep the dreams away," Seishirou told him, handing him an orange bottle. Pills rattled within, shifting around as the bottle changed hands. "One pill an hour before bed, and you'll sleep free of dreams."<p>

Syaoran tucked the little bottle in his pocket, wanting it close in case they had to change dimensions on short notice. He'd learned that whatever didn't fit in your pockets had to go in Mokona's mouth if there was any reason to bring it to the next world. Anything left behind was as good as gone. And since Mokona wasn't here, he had to keep it on his person. "Thank you, Sensei."

Seishirou smiled. "You don't have to be quite so polite. Call me Seishirou."

He frowned, remembering a similar conversation with Sakura. _So long ago, and not even my own memories. _"Okay."

"I stocked up. We've got five more bottles of those, in case we can't find any in the next few worlds. We'll be leaving tomorrow, at first light."

Syaoran nodded in acquiescence. The sooner they finished their business in each world, the sooner he could get back to the others. _If they'll have me. They may name me a traitor instead. _"Seishirou . . ." he began, tasting the name uncertainly.

"Yes?"

"Do you think . . . Do you think they hate me?"

"Who?"

Syaoran didn't buy his teacher's innocence for a second. "Kurogane-san. Fai-san. Princess Sakura. Do you think they hate me?"

Seishirou's answer was swift, brutal. "That's one reason for them to rip out your heart, I suppose."

He flinched and felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder. "You know what I think, Little Wolf? I think they were only using you to help the princess. Oh sure, they liked the Other well enough, but they resented you. They've likely been plotting ways to get rid of you since Tokyo."

The words seemed to rend his insides apart, like the claws of a wolf. It was probably the cruelest thing Seishirou had told him since they'd met in Infinity.

And, given everything that had happened, it was probably the most honest.


	49. Scorched

Chapter Forty-Nine

The world they landed in was not as populous as Avantine, but there was a lot more snow. Syaoran landed face first in a snow drift, keeping him from smashing into the frozen ground. Seishirou would have landed painfully if he hadn't had the agility to flip in midair and come down on both feet. Fuuma's landing was probably the worst, given that he was unconscious and thus unable to compensate for the jarring impact. Syaoran winced at the sound of flesh hitting the ice.

His teacher hurried over to the brown-haired man to check on him. A moment later, Seishirou removed his black cloak and wrapped it around his brother's clothes. "Won't you be cold?" Syaoran asked.

"Vampires don't feel cold like humans do," Seishirou said quietly, eyes narrowing. "Give me your jacket."

Startled by the command, he fumbled with the buttons of his jacket. The temperature had started to drop before he'd left Infinity, and he'd bought a jacket after one of the last chess matches, to stave off the wintry chill during his training. He doubted it was enough to keep anyone warm in the snow, but if he didn't really need it, and Fuuma would benefit from the limited warmth . . . He slid the coat off and handed it to his mentor, wrapping his arms around his torso. The cold permeated his thin shirt and leeched heat from his skin, but as Seishirou had said, the effect wasn't quite the same. He didn't shiver or go numb. The cold was, if anything, a mild annoyance.

His teacher wrapped Fuuma in the coat, then lifted him up, carrying him like an infant across the field of snow. The dark-haired man seemed to have some instinctive knowledge of where to go.

_Does he smell civilization? _Syaoran wondered, sniffing the air. _I can only smell the cold. _He frowned. _Maybe he's using different senses._

Syaoran looked around for signs of habitation. Tracking wasn't a skill he'd thought to learn, but from what little he'd picked up from his clone's memories, no one else had come this way in quite some time.

"Start gathering up branches for a fire," Seishirou said after a few minutes. Syaoran nodded and hurried over to the nearest cluster of trees. Their branches were barren except for the lines of snow clinging to the tops of each branch, but the fact that deciduous trees survived here told him that this world wasn't cold like this year-round. _There should be people scattered throughout this world, _he thought, pulling down at the base of a branch. Underestimating his newfound strength, he tore the branch off with a splintering sound. It careened toward his head and smacked him on the nose, knocking him into the snow.

"Ow," he muttered, rubbing his face. He could feel Seishirou's gaze on the back of his neck.

"Are you all right?"

Vampires didn't feel pain as humans did, either. Already, the hairline fracture in his nose was healing, the pain fading away to nothingness. "I'm fine," he said, wiping the trickle of blood off his face. He pulled another branch from the tree, standing off to the side this time.

Unbidden, images of his most recent nightmare flashed through his mind. He pulled another branch loose, wincing at the sound it made when it broke. _It's just firewood, _he told himself, fighting back the images of his clone doing the same. _In this kind of climate, everyone has to be able to make a fire. _

It occurred to him that the Other might be in this world right now, doing the exact same thing he was doing.

"There's a little cave in the side of this rock," Seishirou yelled. Syaoran glanced up to see the dark-haired man standing over half a mile away, waving his arms. "Bring the firewood over here."

Syaoran gathered the bundle in his arms, hoping it would be enough, and hurried over, stepping up his pace to an unnatural level. As much as the thought of drinking blood to survive horrified him, he had to admit it was convenient to move this fast. In a quarter of the time it would've taken a human to sprint the distance across flat grass, he reached the rest of his party.

Seishirou set his brother down to rest just within the mouth of the cave, combing his fingers through Fuuma's hair before turning his attention to the firewood. "Set the kindling right here. We don't want it so close to the cave that it heats the rocks and makes them fracture."

Syaoran flinched at the thought of boulders coming down on their heads, then hurried to obey, not sure how long it would take for Fuuma to freeze to death. _If he dies, Seishirou-san won't have a reason to keep me here, _Syaoran thought, snapping the largest branch in half and using it as the centerpiece for the fire. He clustered the other branches around it and stuck some of the smallest twigs near the base, where they would act as kindling. After a few minutes, he realized he'd need more firewood if he wanted it to burn for the rest of the night. He hurried over to the nearest cluster of trees and tore a few more branches free to add to the pile.

"Why don't you use your magic to light this?"

Syaoran glanced up from the pile of kindling, surprised at the suggestion. It was the most efficient way to start the fire, but it was also the most flamboyant. If anyone happened to come across them while they worked, it could be trouble.

"Are you sure?"

"There's no one around," his teacher assured him, guessing his thoughts. "Go ahead."

Syaoran returned his gaze to the pile, frowning. All the spells he knew were designed to be used for destruction or self-defense. Being subtle with his magic was something he'd never had to learn.

_You wanted to learn control, _he reminded himself. _If you can't control a simple spell, how can you expect to control your hunger? _

His frown deepened, and he moved his hand over the dry wood. He remembered the twisting motion the Other had used to light a fire in his nightmare. The Other had been using Fai's magic then, but there was a chance Syaoran's own magic would work similarly. Warily, he twisted his hand through the air like he was lighting a stove. The magic in his body coiled in his fingertips, growing hot. A moment later, the base of the fire roared to life. Syaoran recoiled from the bright flash, fearing he'd lost control, but the flames went down to a normal level after a minute.

"That was good," Seishirou said, grinning as he moved his brother closer to the fire. "From now on, you should use your magic as much as possible."

"I don't know if I'll be able to control it," Syaoran said quickly, not wanting this small success to mislead his mentor.

"You will. Just as you'll learn to control your bloodlust."

"I've never practiced with mundane spells like this. I know the limits of my magic, but I don't know how well it can be contained."

Seishirou lost his smile, and Syaoran shrunk back. _Stupid, _he chided himself. _Don't argue with him. _

"Syaoran, there will be times in your travels where you will struggle to do the right thing, or to strive for your goal. When you're faced with such things, the most important thing will be to have a clear head. To do _that_, you'll need to master self-control."

He nodded.

"That includes both mental and physical control. And the best way to learn those is through magic."

Syaoran understood the complicated balance of mind and body as it related to magic. Spells required a mental fortitude, forged through absolute focus, as well as healthy body to channel energy through. _It's like music, _he thought. _To sing or play an instrument, one needs both the mental capacity to understand the notes written on the page, and the physical ability to create the sounds._

"What kinds of things should I do to practice?"

"Anything, really. For example, did you know you can call animals to your aid with magic?"

"Really?"

The older man nodded. "That's right. For example, if you needed a horse, you could send out ripples of magic inviting one to come near, tame or wild. The magic would bind that creature to you until you were out of energy, or until you released the spell."

"Interesting."

"And then there are things like this," Seishirou went on, gesturing to the crackling fire. "On an even smaller scale, you can use that kind of magic to boil water without creating a flame, or warm someone in a cold winter night." His eyes drifted over to his brother's still form, and Syaoran realized why his teacher had been so calm even when Fuuma should have been in danger of freezing to death.

_He uses magic to protect the person he loves, _Syaoran thought, watching Seishirou rest one hand on his brother's forehead. _Where I can only use my magic to destroy._

"You're brooding again."

"I'm sorry."

"Will you tell me what's wrong?"

_He asks that so often. None of the others ever cared enough to ask me that. _"It's nothing. What else can magic do?"

Seishirou smiled. "We're in for a long conversation."


	50. Sated

Chapter Fifty

"Magic is driven by the mind, but limited by the body," Seishirou explained, watching the boy's reactions to see if he understood. "It's possible to manipulate the level of power anywhere within these boundaries, but it requires focus and practice to manage that quickly. Emotion plays a role in the force of your spell as well. If you're angry or in pain, you'll be able to access the full scope of your power, but you'll lack control. Likewise, if you're calm and relaxed, you'll have better control, but your spells might be weaker."

Syaoran nodded, absorbing the lesson with a rapt expression. Seishirou took this to mean this was new information for the boy. _His clone didn't have magic when I trained him in Clow, _he thought. _And it seems this one has little background in the functions and application of it. _He went on. "You must always be in control of yourself, whatever your emotions are. It is possible to be both furious and calm at the same time. In battle, this is the ideal state in which to cast spells. In order to do so effectively, you have to acknowledge your anger and let it run its course, while still keeping a cool head."

"What about other emotions?"

"Like what?"

The Little Wolf fidgeted, moving closer to the glowing embers of the fire. It was well past dark now, though the lack of light did little to affect his vision, and the branches they'd used to make the fire had turned to ash. _We'll need to bank that fire before we sleep, so Fuuma doesn't freeze._

The boy had gathered his wits. "Good emotions, like joy, or love, or . . . things like that." His face reddened, eyes straying to the dying coals as if their light held some answer.

_His mind is still stuck on that princess. That'll be a problem. _"You can draw magic from those, too, but they aren't as reliable as raw fury."

Syaoran looked down. "Okay."

_Still quick to agreement though, _Seishirou thought, revising his assumption that there was a problem. "Some emotions aren't conducive to using magic. Grief and sorrow will only serve to break your control. It's hard to build up much enthusiasm for magic when you're feeling either of those. Frustration that doesn't develop into anger will also hinder your spell casting. Whatever you feel, though, the most important thing is to be calm." Seishirou doubted that would be a problem. Even when upset, the Little Wolf kept a level head.

The boy nodded, to show he was still paying attention. Seishirou forced his lips up into a smile. "That's all we need to talk about tonight," he said. "The rest can wait until tomorrow."

Syaoran frowned. "Oh."

"Have you taken your pills?"

"Not yet." The boy fished the translucent orange bottle out of his pocket and popped one of the pills into his mouth. His expression grew distant as he did so, as if he was thinking about the nightmares that plagued him.

_He said he dreamed of the Other, _Seishirou thought. _But are they psychic dreams, or nightmares born of insecurities? _He hadn't met a dreamseer since that girl in Piffle World, and she had only picked up her vestige of power from a tenuous connection to another witch. _No, if Syaoran was a dreamseer, the dreams wouldn't be so focused around his clone. It's more likely there's a lingering connection. If this Syaoran was able to see everything as the Other experienced it, they may yet be in contact. _

"Is something wrong?" Syaoran asked timidly, noticing his stare.

Seishirou shook his head, rekindling his false smile. "Sorry. Zoned out for a minute there. Let's get some more wood for this fire before we go to sleep for the night."

The boy rose, obedient as ever, and they walked into the woods.

* * *

><p>Sakura fell backwards into his arms, her jade eyes meeting his blue eye for the first time in two weeks. Those eyes closed as the feather integrated with her body, and a moment later, she was unconscious.<p>

Yuuko watched the exchange through the magic circle Mokona had provided. "That is all I was requested to pass on," she said emptily. If Fai had been paying closer attention, the careful neutrality in the witch's voice might have made him wonder what was going on in the other world. As it was, he was just relieved.

"Thanks, Yuuko-san," he said, showing her the first genuine smile he'd shown anyone in far too long.

The witch bowed her head and disappeared, the circle of light wavering for a moment before going out. Mokona plopped down onto the kitchen table with a contented expression

"So the kid's alive . . ."

The magician glanced up at Kurogane, his curiosity spiking as he registered the ninja's tone. He didn't say anything, though, not wanting to chance a difficult conversation when he couldn't guess what the ninja was thinking.

Kurogane sank down into the kitchen chair, one elbow on the edge of the table as he rested his forehead in his hand. He looked somewhere between hung over and exhausted.

"I'm going to put Sakura-chan to bed," Fai said, moving the princess so she sat more naturally in his arms. Her eyes didn't open, but her expression was more peaceful than it had been since Tokyo. Without waiting for a reply, he brought Sakura to her room and laid her down on the bed, picking Mokona up and laying the long-eared creature next to Sakura. Fai pulled the sheets over Sakura's body so she wouldn't be cold. _She grew up in a desert country, after all, _he thought, brushing a fine strand of sunset-colored hair away from her face."Sweet dreams, Sakura-chan."

He left the room, closing the door behind him. He was about to go back to his own room, sensing Kurogane would need some time to come to terms with the news. While it was probably not as difficult as accepting his student was dead, finding out the boy had truly betrayed them for Seishirou had to hurt. Fai doubted Kurogane would be back to his normal, abrasive self for a few more days. _And by then, we'll be in another country, looking for feathers._

Before he reached his door, the ninja spoke. "Sit down. We need to talk about something."

Fai approached the table, feeling the smile on his face sour. "I never pegged you for much of a conversationalist, Kurogane," he said lightly.

The ninja pulled Souhi from its scabbard and let the sharp side graze the skin at the crease of his elbow. Fai blinked, watching the red fluid well up from the cut. "I won't offer," the ninja said, staring at the wall. "But it's going to bleed either way, so . . ."

The magician had trouble speaking around the lump in his throat. "I . . . I don't have to."

"You might as well. There's no point in torturing yourself. The kid's not dead." At this, a tiny thread of emotion leaked into Kurogane's voice.

The sweet scent of the blood filled Fai's nose, shredding his self-control. His breath came quicker, and his senses sharpened. The sound if the ninja's heartbeat seemed deafening to his ears, and the brilliant crimson stood out against his skin like black ink on paper. A drop of red slid down the curve of Kurogane's arm, then hung tantalizingly from his skin. Fai caught the drop with his finger, being careful not to scratch the dark-haired man with his claws.

The warm wetness filled the grooves of his fingerprint. Slowly, Fai drew his finger across the trickle of blood and brought it to his mouth. The blood tasted like liquid fire, a brilliant explosion of flavor on the tip of his tongue. All other thoughts fled from his mind, and he lowered his lips to the dripping cut, desperate to sate his long-ignored thirst. As soon as his lips made contact with Kurogane's skin, he felt the surge of emotion shared through the blood bond.

Kurogane, it seemed, was not as stoic as he tried to act. Fai felt the tangled mass of emotions, and the confusion underlying it all. On the one hand, Kurogane was hurt by his student's apparent betrayal, but on the other, the ninja was preoccupied with the coils of guilt wrapped around his every thought. Fai sensed that the ninja had gone over the night before Syaoran had left dozens of times since they'd gone after Seishirou, trying to piece together other scenarios where he might've been able to prevent the boy from leaving. The fact that he had missed the signs—_he_, who ought to have been the first to see them—had caused Kurogane much grief.

_It's not your fault, _Fai thought to him, directing the thought through their blood bond. The ninja stiffened, recoiling at the mental touch.

_I know that, moron._

Fai's lips curved into a smile over the line of blood. _Things are going to be okay. He's alive._

_He's with that demon-controlling bastard. _

_Ah, _Fai thought, momentarily shielding his mental presence. _So that's it. _To Kurogane, he thought, _It'll be okay._

"Seishirou's a monster," the ninja said aloud, uneasy with telepathy. "And that kid is too damn obedient."

Fai thought of Syaoran's quick agreement to keep searching for Sakura's feathers. In such circumstances, it would've made more sense for Syaoran to split up from them and return to his home world. At first, Fai had assumed he'd stayed only for the fear of getting killed on the way there, but he was much more likely to get killed traveling with Seishirou than he was to get killed here. _He must realize that. So why did he stay as long as he did? Why not go with Seishirou out of hand?_

"Don't ask such stupid questions," Kurogane muttered. Fai withdrew his lips from the laceration, swallowing the last few drops of blood.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

_Only _you _would get mad at someone's thoughts._ "It just seemed strange to me. Why he'd stay, that is."

Kurogane's eyes slid to Sakura's door, then back to the table. "We're still leaving at first light. You might as well get ready to go."


	51. Hated

Chapter Fifty-One

For the first time in over a week, Syaoran slept without nightmares.

It was an odd sensation. The void of sleep passed quickly, but the darkness tugged at the edge of his consciousness, trying to pull him back into a state of awareness as if his body feared falling too deeply asleep.

Even so, it was the best night of sleep he'd had since Kurogane-san had gotten him drunk in Infinity. When Syaoran woke, the sun just peeked over the stone lip of their cave. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinking.

"Ah, you're up," Seishirou said. Syaoran turned to see the dark haired man perched in front of the fire, a pot of water suspended on a makeshift structure in front of him. _Is he making breakfast? _

"Good morning, sensei."

The man rolled his eyes. "I told you before, call me Seishirou. We don't have to worry about such frivolous formalities."

Syaoran frowned, and a small voice in his head whispered, _You want to make him happy, don't you? _"Yes, Seishirou." The name ended on an awkward note, lacking any sort of honorific. Syaoran looked to the older man for approval, which he received in the form of a smile. "Um . . . What are you making?"

"Broth for Fuuma, if he wakes up. He usually does, every few days, and I have to make sure I get as much food into him as I can."

_Don't you need something to make broth from? _Syaoran wondered, before he saw the corpses of two rabbits sitting beside the campfire. He stared at the bloody holes where his mentor had evidently run his claws through the creatures, waiting for the bloodlust to overtake him.

It didn't. He stared at the unappetizing spots of red, inhaling deeply as if that would somehow make them smell more delicious.

"How long did it take you to hunt those?" he asked.

"About half an hour. The first one was easy; I caught him by surprise. The second one was tougher. I chased him a quarter of a mile before I caught up to him."

Syaoran stared at the corpses. The trials of the hunt seemed so insignificant now that they were both dead.

"Would you like to try some when I'm done?" Seishirou asked, stirring the pot slowly as he dropped several bones with meat hanging off them into the mix. "The flavor profile will seem different now that you're a vampire, but it'll still taste okay."

His eyes slid over to Fuuma, lying unconscious on the other side of the fire. The warmth had done him some good, apparently, because rather than being stiff with cold, his limbs were relaxed. _Like he's asleep instead of comatose, _Syaoran thought, returning his attention to his teacher. "We'll see."

Seishirou watched him a moment longer, cocking his head to the side. "It's been a few days. You must be getting thirsty again."

He shuddered, shaking his head without even bothering to process his condition. After he did so, he realized he felt thirsty. It wasn't exactly the same as normal thirst. He could push it to the back of his mind, but now that it had been brought to attention, his throat tightened up. He swallowed thickly. "I'm fine."

"You shouldn't neglect your thirst. It'll tamper with your self-control."

He thought of the woman with Souma's face. "I'm not thirsty."

Seishirou didn't push the issue as Kurogane might have. He went back to making broth. Several minutes passed, and Syaoran began to feel awkward just standing there. "Is it okay if I go practice my drills? I need to work on them."

His new teacher didn't even look at him. "Go ahead. Just be back before sundown."

Syaoran pulled his sword from within his body, using a similar method he'd used to store Sakura's feather before Fai had tried to kill him. He felt a rush of anger at the memory. _Fai didn't even say anything, _he thought bitterly. _He just stuck his claws through my heart like I was some faceless enemy. _

He walked almost half a mile through the snow, glad the frigid air didn't affect him as strongly as it affected humans. _I'll still need a coat to fit in, but I can't sense anyone else around here, so it doesn't really matter._

Eventually, he settled in a small clearing surrounded by trees. Kurogane hadn't taught him much in the way of actual swordsmanship, mostly focusing on tasks to improve his balance and perception. _He never trusted you with real sword techniques._

Syaoran shoved the thought away and focused on the drills his clone had learned. For three hours, he worked mostly on his stances. When he'd escaped Fei Wong Reed's spells, his body had been forced to relearn everything, from walking to fighting. If his muscles hadn't been so weak from his time as a prisoner, he might've been able to vanquish the Other in Tokyo. With the added strangeness of his vampire body, he had to teach himself the basic movements all over again.

_Front stance, _he thought. If he'd been working with Kurogane-san, he'd only have had to listen for the commands. As it was, he was alone.

_Alone. You will always be alone. _He bit his lip, moving into the next stance. _No matter who you're with, no matter where you go, there is no one who will understand you. Everything that's happened to you has made you an outcast. There's no safe place. _

_You need to widen your stance, _he told himself, adjusting appropriately as soon as he noticed the problem. Kurogane had told him—_him, _not the Other—how important it was to have a solid stance. Every detail was crucial. _Feet parallel. Legs shoulder-width apart. Front knee bent. Back leg straight. _

He stepped forward again, swinging his sword to get a feel for the weapon again. He'd used it in practice all of three times, and hadn't used it in a fight since battling the Other in Tokyo. The weight of it felt odd in his arms, though it was not so tiring now that his body was stronger. _You're still weak, _he thought, swinging it more forcefully as he stepped forward. Another part of him said, _Take a wider stance, or you'll lose your balance._

He kept moving, carving paths in the snow wherever he went. After three hours, most of the snow in the clearing was trampled flat. Despite the lack of soreness in his arms, it seemed like a good time to stop. _I should be eating lunch now, _he thought. _I should be sitting down on the park bench and trying to catch a few minutes of rest. I should be waiting for Kurogane-san to bring something from one of the shops for us to eat. _He frowned, leaning against a tree and closing his eyes. Perhaps it felt natural to rest because it was habit. Syaoran knew he didn't _have _to eat, and that there was little point in resting when the tears in his muscles healed so quickly that he didn't even feel the ache of exercise, but he didn't think his mind could tolerate much more of this without at least a short respite.

So he sat there for a few minutes, letting his mind drift to other things. _If I keep traveling with Seishirou, chances are I'll run into them eventually. What if they mistake me for the Other? Or maybe they'll think I'm just an alternate version of myself, another matching face like the people we've encountered in worlds past. Or maybe I won't see them again for a long time, and they'll continue aging while I stay the same. _He imagined Sakura, thirty years old, having moved on with her life. _She'll probably have a family by then, _he thought, feeling a strange pang in his chest. _Sakura always liked kids. She'd want to have at least one or two._

He tried to imagine that, tried to see the faces of Sakura's children, years down the road. But whenever he tried to picture their faces, his mind went blank. He just couldn't think of Sakura's features mixing with anyone else's to have a child.

_I'll probably see her again before that, _he told himself. _After all, there wasn't much time between when the Other saw Seishirou in Outo and when I found him in Infinity. It's possible that the similar nature of Yuuko-san's magic things draws the people in contact with them closer. But if that's the case . . . I might not be done helping Seishirou. I won't be able to stay with them, if I find them._

He drew his legs in closer and wrapped his arms around them, resting his head on his knees. _Even if I did find them . . . Fai tried to kill me. They obviously didn't want me around in Infinity. Why would they want me back after I betrayed them? If they didn't think I was dead already, they'd be thinking of ways to kill me._

_Sakura wanted you to stay, _part of him reasoned. _She tried to stop you from leaving. She was _crying_ when you left._

The memory of tears running down her cheeks played across the inside of his eyelids. He remembered touching her face, trying to memorize her features before he left, feeling her soft skin against his fingertips. She'd asked him not to leave, testing his resolve in a way their enemies never had. He had faltered, his control breaking just long enough for him to brush his fingertips across her fragile cheekbones, to touch her for the first time.

_She wanted me to stay, _he thought, as his breathing hitched. _She wanted me to stay, I could see it written across her face. I should have. I should've stayed with her. She was the only thing tethering me to this journey. I should have stayed._

A darker voice whispered, _No, you should've squashed any affection you had for her so you could do your duty. You should never have allowed anything to cloud your judgment, least of all the opinions of someone who was still missing half their memories._

_It's not my place to feel anything for her._

_That's right. So you might as well kill any lingering affection right now because she's never going to love you like she loved the Other._

"_Never. I will never love you." _

Syaoran flinched. _That part was just a dream._

_A true dream, and you know it._

_She wanted me to stay._

_She wanted someone who wore the same face as the Other._

_She needed me._

_The only thing she needed was a reminder that the person she cared about existed in another world. _

Syaoran buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath.

The cold voice went on. _She will never care about you, and even if she did, you're still a commoner, and a foreigner at that. Caring about her will only cause you more pain._

"I don't believe that," he whispered, talking to himself again. _Just like you talked to yourself in Infinity because no one else deigned to speak to you. _

_Because they hated you._


	52. Practiced

Chapter Fifty-Two

They'd been in Cirrus for ten days now, and Mokona was still having trouble pinpointing Sakura's feather. "There's definitely one in this world," she said, ears flattening against her back as she focused. "But it disappears, and then it _moves._"

"What a pain," Kurogane said, glancing up at the purple sky overhead. Mokona had sensed a general decline in his suffering over the past few days, but something still lingered, behind his abrasive exterior. At first, Mokona had labeled the feeling as worry, mixed with Kurogane's more typical anger, but now she wasn't so sure. _It's too tangled. Mokona can't understand what he's feeling except that he's still suffering. _She frowned, turning toward Fai. His web of feelings was less complex. The most dominant was guilt, but everything else was laced with a feeling of dread. Fai did not trust anyone except Sakura.

_And Mokona, of course. Everyone trusts Mokona. _

"We'll find it," Sakura said. There was no mystery to her emotions. She was simultaneously guilty for being unable to stop Syaoran while yearning for his presence. _Just like Mokona, _the white creature thought. Her ear twitched as the feather reappeared miles behind them.

"It's over there now. Far away." She pointed in the right direction, beyond the colorful buildings with rounded walls and cobblestone sidewalk.

The ninja sighed. "It's getting dark. If it's going to keep teleporting like this, there's no point in tiring ourselves out."

Sakura frowned while Fai smiled. Their emotions, as far as Mokona could tell, didn't match their expressions. Sakura was actually relieved that they were stopping. After walking on her crippled leg for days now, she was likely quite sore. Fai's smile was the same false smile he'd worn in all the previous worlds, a mask to hide the wintry edge of his emotions.

"Mokona thinks we should all go out to eat first!" she piped up, trying to be cheerful in the bleak atmosphere.

"I think I saw a bakery a while back," Fai said.

"Like you don't have enough sugar in your diet."

Fai took the ninja's comment with surprising lightheartedness. "Sugar doesn't affect my body the same way it used to. I don't have to worry about that kind of stuff."

"Cake sounds nice," Sakura said, subdued. Her quiet comment settled the matter. They turned back, following the magician. Mokona remembered every street they'd been down, and every quirky little shop they'd passed. Her navigation skills had improved vastly since leaving Yuuko's shop. She could recall vast stores of information, so as to avoid worlds they'd already investigated when they were between dimensions. So when they drew closer to the bakery, she poked her head out of Kurogane's shirt to smell the aroma of baking bread and cinnamon rolls.

_Yuuko would've loved this place, _she thought wistfully, remembering how many times she'd caught Yuuko sneaking baked goods into the shop, or requesting them in exchange for little favors.

They moved closer, and Fai pushed into the door, grinning widely at the tinkling bell. His smile lasted only a second before Mokona felt an echo of panic ripple out from him. The mood whiplash disoriented her, so it took a moment for her to realize everyone else had gone just as still and silent as Fai. When she looked up at the counter, she realized why.

A thin man with golden hair and sapphire eyes smiled as they gawked at him. His features shifted with surprise a moment later. "Welcome to the Little Kitty's Bakery," he said warmly. But all the warmth in the world couldn't have stilled the silent storm raging within their group. Mokona felt dozens of emotions tangle together: shock, horror, confusion, curiosity, cold blankness, fear, grief, panic, and all the variations thereof.

Because it just couldn't be possible. Yuuko had told her a hundred times that any copies of dimensional travelers ceased to exist as soon as such travelers acquired the means to traverse the worlds. It should've been impossible for such an encounter to occur. Yet by some anomaly, it had, because standing behind the countertop was a man that looked exactly like Fai.

* * *

><p><em>They may hate me, but there's no point in crying about it. <em>Syaoran's hands dropped to his lap, and he let the moisture on his face cool in the frigid air. He'd been crying too much lately, allowing his emotions too much power over him. It was time to stop.

He stood up, rubbing his sleeve across his face, and walked back to the center of the clearing, shaking snow off his clothes as he went. He summoned out his sword—the last souvenir of his original world, the blade his biological father had given him—and tested its balance in his hands. It was a quality weapon, forged from fine steel so it would be light but durable.

_More than I deserve, _he thought, moving into a front stance to go through his drills. If there was any chance to return to the others after this part of the journey was over, he wanted to show them he hadn't neglected his training. _Kurogane-san would've wanted that._

_Would he, though? _asked the self-destructive voice in his mind. _Or will he regret teaching you anything in the first place?_

Syaoran ignored the voice, switching stances as he moved to strike. His ears picked up on the sound of the blade slicing air. He struck again, imagining he was facing his clone instead of empty air. His blade moved faster, and his body shifted stances without a conscious thought from his mind. _I'm getting my muscle memory back, _he thought, imagining the blade slicing through the Other's shoulder.

His movements accelerated, until the speed made his steps clumsy. He slowed just enough to get a clean cut, then continued on, pushing his body to the limit. _I cannot neglect my training. I have to be strong next time I see them, so they'll have a reason to keep me around._

_So they won't try to kill me in my sleep. _

Another step. He danced out of the way of an imaginary blow, then brought his sword around from the side, aiming for the middle of the ribcage. His focus was so intense, he could almost feel the muscle and bone shredding as his blade parted the flesh.

This world was locked in winter, but still, he was sweating by the time he calmed. He took several deep breaths, realizing how long he'd been working. For the first time since he'd become a vampire, he felt tired. It was a strangely powerful sensation.

The sun was still high in the sky. Seishirou wasn't expecting him back for hours yet. _I should've asked him if there was a feather in this world, _he thought._ But maybe I'll be able to sense it on my own with my magic. _He closed his eyes, letting the world go quiet around him. His practice had scared off most of the animals in the vicinity, but he could feel the presence of some smaller animals, cowering in their burrows beneath his feet. When he focused, he could feel the faint signature of Seishirou and Fuuma back where they'd set up camp.

He couldn't feel any other energy source nearby. _If there's nothing for us in this world, Seishirou won't want to linger. Maybe I should go back after all. _He frowned at the thought. It wasn't that he didn't _want _to go back. After all, Seishirou was the only one since Tokyo who'd showed any interest in his wellbeing. But it wasn't Seishirou he wanted to be around, it was Sakura.

_She's probably in another world by now, _he thought, subdued. _There's no point in thinking about it. She doesn't want to see you._

No part of his mind disagreed with that, so he let it go. There were better things he could be dwelling on, like how to stop Fei Wong Reed, or how he was going to gain control over his bloodlust. _At least I don't have to worry about having nightmares anymore. I still have to be ready to meet the Other, but he'll probably need to gather more feathers before he's able to affect me while I'm awake. _He thought of the sleepwalking incident, of how he'd woken up to feel the flames nipping at his fingertips. The burn had been minor, less than he might've received from picking up a hot pan without oven mits. It was the incident itself that unnerved him.

_If I were to stop taking those sleeping pills, he'd be able to take control again, and next time, it might be in an even more perilous situation. I need to safeguard against that. _His hand coiled around the bottle of pills in his pocket. _But what am I going to do once he gets more powerful? With every feather he gains, he gains power over me. It might only be a few feathers before he can slip into my thoughts. And how long after that before he can slip into my skin and wear it like a glove?_

Syaoran shuddered. "It doesn't matter," he whispered to himself. _I'll kill him before he takes control again._


	53. Loved

Chapter Fifty-Three

"You're back early," Seishirou remarked.

Syaoran glanced away. "I got tired."

"Not pushing yourself too hard, I hope."

He shook his head. "I just worked on the drills Kurogane-san taught me." Syaoran watched for any sign that his old teacher's name had upset Seishirou, but the dark-haired man just smiled. _He's always smiling. Just like Fai used to smile._

"Any breakthroughs?"

He shrugged, not feeling much like conversation, and moved to the fire to warm himself. It wasn't that he was _cold_. He couldn't get cold the same way he'd used to. But he wasn't warm, and the heat coming off the fire was comforting, like a blanket to curl up in at night.

They went a few minutes without speaking, until Seishirou offered to let him try the broth he'd made for Fuuma. When Syaoran saw the pot was almost half empty, he refrained from asking if Fuuma had woken up. _Seishirou would've mentioned it, if he'd wanted me to know. I shouldn't pry. _"I'll try some," he agreed, taking the offered spoon and drawing the warm broth up to his lips.

The taste was similar to things he'd eaten before, but he noticed a change in the way he perceived flavor. He could pick out each ingredient. Rabbit was the most dominant, but he could detect oregano, thyme, a little bit of ginger, and a dozen other herbs he couldn't identify. "Where did you get all these spices?"

"I've traveled to many different worlds, and I've found that some of them don't have foods to my liking. I carry around spices so I can cook for myself. Did you like it?"

Syaoran nodded. Despite the sharp flavor the spices had lent the broth, the taste was warm and familiar. He remembered his father giving him something similar in their travels. _Well, he gave the Other something like this, anyway. _"I like most foods."

"Ah. Well, that's to be expected, traveling from such a young age."

"That was the Other," he said patiently, swallowing another spoonful.

"You don't have to—"

"I do. Because I'm not him, and he's not me."

"Trying to separate yourself from those memories is only going to cause you pain in the long run."

"But I didn't live that life. I didn't create those memories. If I allow myself to forget that . . . It'll be like I'm stealing that life away for myself."

"What your clone has turned into . . ."

"Is a monster, I know. And I'm going to stop him before he can do any more damage. But that time, when I was sealed away, still belongs to him."

"Why are the memories so important to you?"

Syaoran stared at the base of the flames and stuck a branch into the coals. "Why are memories so important to me?" he echoed, smiling faintly for a moment before turning somber. "The price the Other paid for the ability to travel through dimensions was his relationship with Princess Sakura. In order to pay that price, he forfeited any chance of having Sakura remember him, regardless of how many feathers he returned to her.

"I'd already been watching him for years, you see. I'd watched him fall into Clow with no memories of his own and very little in the way of basic knowledge. For years, I thought that, as much as I'd done to impart some of my own soul into him, he stood no chance of being whole. The princess and our father were the only people who meant anything to him. No offense," he added quickly, seeing the stifled reaction from Seishirou. "When he sacrificed the relationship he'd held so dear, when he put his life on the line to restore the rest of her memories . . . That was the first time I truly believed he could forge a heart of his own."

Seishirou was watching him intently now.

Syaoran sighed. "Memories aren't like little videos you can play back in your head. They aren't like photos or drawings that you put up on your wall. When you lose a memory, you lose all the emotional connections that went with it. Stealing memories without acknowledging their owner is like taking fragments of that person's heart and soul and using it for your own gain. That's why, even though he's a monster, even though he's caused me so much suffering, I acknowledge the memories as his."

It was quiet except for the soft crackling of the fire. After several minutes, Seishirou spoke. "You are wise beyond your years, Little Wolf. And even more honorable than I thought."

He felt his face flush. "It's nothing like that. It's just something I've been thinking about for a while now."

Another silence, this one shorter than the last. Seishirou stirred what little remained of the broth, the firelight glinting off his glass eye. "Why did you agree to travel with me?" Seishirou asked, picking up a thin branch and poking at the bed of embers. "I threatened your princess and I burned down an apartment building trying to force your hand. Why would you choose to come with me over your friends?"

Somehow, it seemed like a trick question. _Does he want me to say I was sick of them, or that I was trying to do the right thing? Then again, both were true . . . _He frowned, trying to recall what exactly had prompted him to go to Seishirou. "Fuuma-san's situation was more dire than the princess's," he said slowly. "Sakura would survive—and be happier—if I wasn't around, at least I thought so. When I found out Fuuma-san was dying . . . I would never have been able to forgive myself, if there was some way I could stop that from happening, and I chose not to help."

"So it wasn't out of any sort of loyalty to me?"

_Another trick question. What kind of answer is he looking for? _"If I hadn't been bound to Sakura, I would've agreed to help you without question. At the time, I was more loyal to them than I was to you. That was what made the decision so hard. If they hadn't . . . If they'd just acted like I was a person instead of . . . I mean, even if they'd treated me like they'd treated my clone, that would've been okay, but . . ."

"But they treated you like dirt."

"_No,_" he said sharply, not realizing until he responded exactly why their treatment had bothered him. "They treated me like I was a _ghost_. Like I wasn't even there. And when they did acknowledge me, it was like they were talking to a complete stranger. I couldn't get any response out of them even if I tried. I couldn't make Sakura smile. Not once. So I thought . . ." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. It had been a long time since he'd laid his emotions bare for someone else. "I thought that things wouldn't change much for them, if I were to just disappear. I didn't want to die—I'm not suicidal—but I couldn't take it anymore.

"I didn't come to you because I was trying to do the right thing. All I wanted was to be around someone who could acknowledge that I was human. That I wasn't a monster."

Seishirou laid a hand on his shoulder. It was more than any of the others had ever given him.

"I wanted their approval so badly," he whispered. "I obeyed Kurogane-san without question. I went out of my way to avoid them because I knew they were uncomfortable when I was around. I agreed to keep up the search for Sakura's feathers. I did my best to do the right thing, and it still wasn't enough."

"You don't have to say anything else, if you don't want."

"I'm not done."He tried to remember where the conversation had started. "I could've handled it. I could've endured the silence. I could've endured the things I overheard from them. I could've taken it all, if Sakura had ever once smiled at me."

"You . . . care for her."

"I turned back time for her," he whispered, remembering the seal of death, remembering those years Sakura had lost forever. "I shouldn't have. I should've squashed what I felt for her and moved on. But I couldn't. She would've died, and nothing would've ever been okay again. That's why I did it. I turned back time, and it cost me dearly. I lost all the connections I might've forged with her. I lost any chance of having her look at me without thinking of the Other. Now I'm separated from her again, unable to protect her if something should happen, unable to see her face, except in those stolen memories. You could even go so far as to say I've lost _her_. She will never smile at me. I will never hear her laugh. I will never know what it's like to hold her. But she's alive, and that's enough."

He raised his eyes from the bed of embers and looked up to his teacher. Seishirou tousled his hair, just as he'd done the day he'd left the others. "She means that much to you?"

"She means everything to me."

"Do you love her?"

He flinched. "It's not my place."

"Do you love her or don't you?"

"I . . ." _Why do you want to see her smile? _some part of his mind asked. _Why is that so important to you? You would kill for her, die for her, suffer for her. Is that love? Is that why you can't stop thinking about her, even now? Is that why you faltered when you tried to leave?_ Syaoran bit his lip, the counterarguments ringing in his ears. _If there was ever anyone she could love, it was the Other. There is no place for you in her heart. Seeing your face would just remind her of what she's lost._

_So why? Why feel anything for her? It's not my place to worry about her. Even the Other walked a precarious line by having such close contact with her. All I ever did was twist time. I saved her once, when the Other saved her a dozen times. I have no right. _He tilted his head up to look at Seishirou. The dark-haired man stared back at him, leaning forward in anticipation of his answer. Syaoran looked down.

_There is no place for me. But if I did love her . . . _He lifted one hand so it rested over his heart. The muscle fluttered under his fingertips. _If I did, if I were able to . . . would things change? Get better? Or does it even matter? _Do _I love her?_

It wasn't a matter of whether or not he loved her, he decided. He knew the answer to that. It was a matter of whether or not he had the guts to say it. _The guts to take her hand, _he thought, with a note of finality. When he spoke, he knew it was the truth. "Of course I love her."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_Yay! Syaoran has stopped lying to himself!_

_I suppose I should clarify some things about Sakura, now that it's become relevant to the plot. The Sakura I'm using in this story is the one who has been traveling with the group since the beginning of the series. It's been a while since I've read the whole series, and last time I tried, my computer got swamped with viruses, so I'm a little hazy on some of the events that happened after the Tokyo Arc. Anyway, since my story is technically an AU, I'm writing this as if Syaoran believes he's with the original Sakura, and that there was no cloning involved for her. It makes for a little bit of inconsistency, I suppose, but I feel like worrying about it right now would confuse me and hinder my writing. This changes Syaoran's internal monologues a little bit, given that he's only interested in pleasing the Sakura his clone traveled with, but it's the only way I can think to work the plot with what I understand of the series._

_Anyway, thanks to all my loyal reviewers. You guys inspire me to write more every day, and your support has kept me going even through bouts of writer's block. Hope to hear from you all soon, and thanks for reading._


	54. Interrogated

Chapter Fifty-Four

Fai pivoted on his heel and fled.

"Where the hell are you going?" Kurogane demanded. Fai ignored the yell, moving at a supernatural speed so the ninja wouldn't catch up to him. This was a conversation he'd never intended to face, and if there was any possible way to avoid it, he would.

So he ran, passing by the same rainbow-hued shops they'd walked past before, not caring where he ended up so long as it was away from the bakery. _Fai, _he thought. _That was Fai._

It had taken him a moment to understand. At first, he'd thought the wall behind the counter was made of mirrors. But when he hadn't seen any of the other's reflections, when the image had not matched his motions, he'd understood.

The streets were empty except for a few citizens hurrying home for the night or leaving for the graveyard shift. Some stared at him as he flew by, but none had the time or the curiosity to ask him how he moved so fast. _Fai . . . _

He ran until his lungs burned with exhaustion, ending up over two miles from the bakery in less than a quarter of the time it would've taken a professional athlete to sprint a third of the distance. He staggered across the road and sunk down onto the hard wooden slats of a city bench, leaning back and letting his head dangle over the back of the seat. "Fai," he whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear, even if they were within earshot.

He'd thought he'd prepared himself for the eventuality. After seeing his companions run into copies of people they'd known in other dimensions, he had acknowledged the possibility that he might someday run into an alternate version of his brother. He'd told himself that it wouldn't matter. Whoever he met, it wasn't the real Fai. In theory, it shouldn't have mattered that he'd come across a living version of his brother.

In practice, it was the most gut-wrenching thing that had ever happened to him. His breath came in rapid, shaky gasps, and he couldn't get his heart to slow down. His whole body burned from the exertion of his flight. He sunk deeper into the city bench, unable to stand.

He was shaken, horrified, and heartsick, but some part of him was relieved. At least this Fai had escaped the horrible fate that had befallen the other one. _I wonder if he's a twin, _he thought irrelevantly. Then he realized that if he was in this world, that probably meant there wasn't another like him here. _Dead, or never existed at all? Either way, if there was an alternate version of myself here, he's gone now. If there was a possibility of running into ourselves without something awful happening, we would've met someone with one of our faces by now. _

He heard murmurs nearby. When he opened his eye, he saw two women staring at him from across the street, their heads pushed together in hushed conversation. At his glance, they looked away. This didn't end their quiet gossip, though. The woman with the brown hair murmured something to her blonde friend. Fai listened closer, curious to hear what they were saying about him. Quiet as they were, it took him a moment to realize he couldn't understand them.

_I must be out of Mokona's range, _he thought, realizing with some dismay that he was going to have to go back and face the others again. _Well of course you will. You need Kurogane's blood to survive._

_And if I didn't want to go back, what would they say? That I had to? That it was for the best? It would've been best if I'd never been born, so my brother wouldn't have been labeled as cursed. _

He closed his eye and leaned back again, letting his body go as still as a corpse. Minutes passed, and stretched into hours. It was summer here in Cirrus, according to the conversations he'd overheard earlier in the day, but it wasn't much warmer than Ceres had been in the summertime, despite the flat land. _It must be bitterly cold in winter._

The night deepened. He just sat there, trying not to think. Eventually, he heard footsteps.

"Hey, why the hell did you run off?"

He didn't answer, just opened his eye and closed it again to show the ninja he wasn't dead.

An exasperated sigh pierced the chilly air. "I left the princess at the hotel," Kurogane said, just as Mokona poked out of his shirt. "She's worried sick about you."

Fai grimaced. _She's already suffered so much. She shouldn't have to be burdened with even one more thing._ Slowly, he sat up.

The ninja stalked over to the bench and glared down at him. "What the fuck happened back there?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit. I know you know something. Why is this the first time we've ever run across one of our own in our travels? How did we run across another version of you, when you're sitting right there?" Another question hung in the air, unsaid: _Why did you react so intensely?_

"I don't know."

Kurogane kicked a green trashcan hard enough to knock it over. "I don't know how _stupid_ you think I am, but there's no way I'm going to believe you don't have any idea what happened back there."

"I don't think you're stupid," Fai said, responding to the easiest part of the statement. _You're anything _but _stupid. You see all the things I hide away as if they were laid out in front of you. No, I only wish you were stupid. _

"So. Tell me."

Fai sighed. "The man you saw at the bakery wasn't an alternate version of myself," he said quietly. "Having two of the same soul in one dimension would disrupt the natural order of things. Both parties would die instantly if they so much as existed on the same plane." _That's why we've never been able to find a copy of ourselves in any world, _he thought. _Because they would have ceased to exist before we could ever step foot in their dimension. _

"Who was he then?"

_Fai. _"I don't know."

"You know."

"I don't."

"And you criticized the kid for lying."

He flinched, head flying up to look at the ninja. A surge of anger rushed through him at the accusation, and before he knew it, he was on his feet. "It's not my _fault_. You have no right to know my past. You have no right to question me like this."

The ninja seemed taken aback by the display of anger. _Good, _Fai thought, with an unusual amount of venom.

"So, what . . . Did you have a twin brother, or something?"

His shoulders stiffened. _Too smart for your own good._

"That's it, isn't it? And you had to leave him behind."

"I never left him behind!" Fai exploded. "I was always there with him. He was the only person in my world that meant anything to me." He took a step closer, feeling his claws extend to their full length. "You have no right . . ."

The ninja crossed his arms. "A twin brother. What was his name?"

_Fai. _"What does it matter? He's _dead_."

For the first time, something like sympathy flickered across the dark-haired man's face. Fai pressed his advantage. "Yes, he's dead. He flung himself from a tower to save me because I was selfish. Because I was a monster. I still am." He opened his eye wide to showcase the golden glow. "So don't presume to know anything about me."

Kurogane stared at him for a moment. Fai could tell the ninja had made the connection he'd been formulating since the beginning of their travels.

"You wanted to know why I smiled so much," Fai said, grinning. Even in his rage, he could feel the mocking edge to his smirk. It was far from the goofy smile he'd favored everyone with during their journey. "You wanted to know why I couldn't be serious, or why I laughed at stupid things. You thought I was a fool.

"So you want to know why I smiled? It wasn't for your benefit, or for Sakura-chan's. I smiled and I laughed because I didn't want to look in the mirror and face the monster I saw there."

Kurogane stared at him for a long moment, then uncrossed his arms, sighing. "The princess is still waiting for you to come back. She's worried about you."

The words hit Fai like a slap. _She's worried about _me_? _he thought incredulously, feeling his heart sink in his chest. _After all I've done?_ "Don't tell her," he whispered, dread forming in the pit of his stomach. "Please. It's not something she should have to think about."

Kurogane sighed, eyes closing for a moment. "Fine. But don't blame me when she starts asking questions."

"She won't." _She's too trusting. She'll believe whatever excuse I make for her._ He brushed the hair away from his eye patch, realizing with some surprise how long it had grown. _Does vampire hair grow faster than human hair? _he wondered irrelevantly.

"Let's go back," Kurogane said. "We've got bigger things to worry about."


	55. Baked

Chapter Fifty-Five

As Sakura cracked two eggs over the edge of the bowl, she wondered what kind of world Syaoran had landed in.

_Yuuko-san said he was in a different state, _she remembered, rinsing the yolk off her hands in the circular kitchen sink. Everything seemed rounded around the edges in Cirrus, as if everything was childproofed so that if anyone ever fell, they wouldn't hit their heads on something sharp. Her thoughts wandered on as she returned to the bowl to mix the ingredients, like Fai-san had shown her in Outo. _What did she mean by a different state? Has he been hurt? But she said he was fine, so it must be something else that's changed him. Did she mean he's loyal to Seishirou now?_

The thought disheartened her, and the speed of her mixing slowed. They had automated tools for blending cake ingredients and similar things together in this world, but like everything else, the appliances were multicolored and more fit for a child than a girl her age. _At least the oven is normal, _she thought, as the appliance beeped to announce it had reached the appropriate temperature. Sakura kept blending, making sure the mix was evenly spread and of the right consistency.

_If he's joined Seishirou for real, that could mean he won't come back. And if he's not coming back, I might never get to apologize to him for the way I treated him in Infinity. _

She finished mixing and walked over to the oven, flinching at the sound of her crippled leg hitting the puzzle-patterned floor. _It's so loud compared to the other foot, _she thought bitterly, transferring the cake mix over to a more suitable pan and spreading it with her spatula. With great care, she opened the oven and stuck the pan inside.

She took a seat across from the oven, turning the interior light on so she could watch it bake. The last thing she wanted to do was burn the cake meant as an apology to Fai-san. _He'd eat it even if I burned it, _she thought, still not smiling. _Because he wouldn't want to hurt my feelings._

_Syaoran wouldn't want to hurt you, either. _Her frown deepened. A cake like this would be sufficient to apologize to Fai for shunning him. After all, his actions had been driven by a curse. It wasn't his fault, so it was her place to apologize, however hurt she still was. But the way she'd treated Syaoran . . . _I was rotten, _she thought. _I acted like he wasn't even there, even though he was still going to help me get my feathers. Is it any wonder he didn't believe me when I told him I wanted him to stay? _

Cakes baked slowly. As she stared at the mass of dough, Sakura found her mind drifting back to the day he'd left. For a few seconds, he'd opened up to her. _He called me Sakura. Just Sakura. But why would he do that, if he was leaving? He said he'd come back, but . . . _She felt the tremor in her breathing that marked the start of tears, and reined in her emotions. If she got all weepy every time she thought of him, she'd never be able to think of a solution. _The way he looked at me when he said my name . . . It was like he was trying to memorize my face. Like he was never going to see me again. Did he leave because he thought I didn't want to see him? _

She lifted a hand to her cheek, where Syaoran had touched her, just before he'd left. _The first time he ever touched me,_ she thought, as if some sensation of his featherlike touch still remained in her cheek. _But why? Why bother if he was just going to leave? _

Sakura couldn't think of a reason. This Syaoran had been too distant for her to grasp his mentality. _I want to know him, _she thought. _I want to know him like I knew my Syaoran. _

But she only had _her_ Syaoran's reactions to go on. She knew the one she'd traveled with would've done anything for her, even died for her. He'd been that selfless. But even if his body still remained, that Syaoran was lost to her. And, as hopeless at it was, there might still be some slim chance that the new Syaoran would return to her. It wouldn't be the same, but it would be something.

It would be enough.

The door to the hotel room swung open. Sakura stood up to greet the returning members of her party. "Welcome back."

Fai-san blinked at her greeting, a look of shock crossing his face. Guilt flooded into his eyes almost immediately. "Good evening, Sakura-chan."

"I'm making you a cake."

He stared at her for a long moment, seeming to collapse in on himself. Sakura checked the oven, noted the approximate amount of time before the cake would be ready, then got out a clean bowl to make frosting with. The others observed her behavior with a mix between fascination and disbelief, and she felt compelled to explain. "Since we didn't end up getting a cake at the bakery, I thought it might be nice to make one myself."

"It's one in the morning," Kurogane said, staring at her as if she'd sprouted a second head.

"Mokona wants some," the white creature announced cheerfully.

Sakura nodded. "We can send a piece to Yuuko-san, too. I made plenty." _And Syaoran-kun's not here . . . _She forced herself to remain cheerful as she mixed the frosting. She checked on the cake again, and pulled it out of the oven with one of the oven mits. Once it was free, she turned off the oven and went back to making frosting, waiting for the spongy cake to cool.

The others sat down at the kitchen table, exchanging glances. Sakura slathered the frosting onto the cake and smoothed it out so it was even before bringing it to the table. She searched the kitchen for an appropriate knife and returned to the table, cutting the cake into six slices, one for each member of their group and one for Yuuko, leaving one left over for . . . _Oh, _she thought, any attempt at good cheer fleeing from her mind when she saw the extra piece. _Well, I guess that _was _the easiest way to cut it. _She sat down.

"This is good, Sakura-chan," Fai said, taking his first bite.

Mokona squeaked in agreement, sucking up a slice of cake for Yuuko-san before digging into her own.

Kurogane grunted once in approval, accepting the sugary treat without complaint.

Sakura took her first bite of cake. The flavors blended together just as they were supposed to, and the sugary frosting forced her lips into a smile, but a blanket of depression still hung over her. _I'll find him again, _she thought. _I'll find him, and he'll come back to me. _

_He has to._

* * *

><p>They left the snowy country that morning. "You're feeling well-rested, I trust?" Seishirou asked as he rolled up their bedrolls and slung them over his back.<p>

Syaoran nodded. The pills they'd picked up in Avantine were almost magical in their effectiveness. He hadn't dreamed of the Other once since he'd started taking them.

He hadn't dreamed of Sakura, either.

"Fuuma," Seishirou said to his brother, nudging the other man's shoulder. "Are you going to wake up?"

The dying man didn't stir. Syaoran looked away, sensing the private nature of the moment. _Not that there's much between us that we can't say anymore, _he thought, thinking of last night. _He knows something about me I've never told anyone before. _

"Hand me that feather, would you?" Seishirou asked. After a brief hesitation, Syaoran handed him the feather from Avantine. He'd been holding onto it ever since they'd arrived here, uncomfortable having it out of his hands.

And besides, the gentle waves of magic rippling out from the feather reminded him of Sakura.

"Ready to go?"

Syaoran nodded. Seishirou stood and took a deep breath. The space around them bulged, the dark liquid of the dimensional sea seeping into this world. Syaoran held his breath, getting ready to endure the uncomfortable sensation of the space in between dimensions. All at once, the three of them were lifted up into the shifting mass and transported out of this world.

They landed in the most bizarre country. Syaoran fell onto a sidewalk that seemed to be made of large puzzle pieces instead of squares. The sidewalk was too soft to be stone, and smelled synthetic, like plastic. Beside him was a green trashcan overflowing with what appeared to be snack wrappers and discarded cotton candy. Cheery music twisted through the air, the kind of music that went with dancing fairies and gumdrop trees. "What country is this?" he wondered aloud.

A passerby, cloaked in what appeared to be hundreds of multicolored ribbons sewn into a dress, answered them with a smile. "This is the country of Cirrus."


	56. Moved

Chapter Fifty-Six

"Cirrus?" Syaoran echoed, imagining the wispy clouds bearing the same name.

"That's right," sang the woman in the rainbow dress, twirling around like a little girl despite the wrinkles on her forehead. "Cirrus, the kingdom where childhood never ends."

_Well that explains a lot, _he thought, glancing at the strange, rounded edges of each multicolored building. He supposed he'd been to worlds weirder than this before._ The Other has, anyway._

The woman skipped off, graceful despite her advancing age. Syaoran turned to Seishirou, watching the dark-haired man lay Fuuma on a bench and put a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"He's sleeping, but he'll be fine here for a few minutes while we find a place to stay."

"A place to stay?" the woman repeated, spinning around. Her dress, too thin to be comfortable in this cold, spun like a flower in full bloom as she turned. "You can come over to my house. I've got lots of snacks and toys to play with."

Syaoran was starting to revise his opinion that he'd seen stranger worlds.

"That would be divine," Seishirou said, picking Fuuma up and carrying the unconscious man on his back. "Lead the way."

The woman skipped across the cobblestone street. They walked two blocks through the crisp morning air, until they reached a yellow and red house with circular windows and a door half the size of a normal entrance. "Right this way," the woman said, crouching down to slip inside the door. "Oh, I'm Adele, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you. You can call me Syaoran."

"You don't have to be so polite. Act however you want to. The rule here is that you get to do whatever you want so long as you share and don't hit anyone else."

_Yeah, definitely the weirdest place I've ever been to._ "Okay."

"Would you like a snack? I've got cupcakes."

"No thank you."

"Oh." She frowned. "Well, I'll be in the kitchen making more, if you want some. I've got lots of things to play with lying around, so have fun." Adele flitted into the kitchen, leaving them in peace for a moment.

"Have you ever run across a world like this?"

"Piffle World was the closest," Seishirou said, seeming distracted.

"You've been to Piffle World?"

"Yes, shortly after your group left, in fact."

Syaoran blinked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't ask."

"But . . . How did you know I'd been to Piffle World?"

"There are many laws that bind the different dimensions together, laws that can't be bent or broken regardless of where you go. One of those rules is that dimensional travelers tend to follow others like them, jumping to places where there's already a rift in the fabric of reality."

_A rift in the fabric of reality? That sounds a lot more dangerous than I thought. _"What are the other rules?"

Seishirou listed them off in a bored voice. "The dead can't be brought back to life. Travelers can't encounter another version of themselves, or even step foot in the same world as someone with the same soul. There's no such thing as true immortality, only longevity. Things like that."

"But . . . You brought me back to life, didn't you?"

"It was a very complex set of circumstances. You see, in the country of Infinity, there exist practices that can restart a heart after it has stopped. According to the rules of that world, you weren't technically dead, so I was able to save you. If I had waited until the oxygen deprivation killed your brain, that would've been different. There would've been no saving you then. But because Infinity allows the heart to stop beating for a short period of time before death becomes official, I was able to manipulate the natural order of things and bring you back."

Syaoran turned the explanation over in his mind. "So, if they hadn't had that technology in Infinity . . ."

"You would've died," Seishirou said solemnly.

"I see . . ." _So Fai really meant to kill me._

"It doesn't matter. You're alive now, that's all that counts."

"Right." _At least he cares, _he added in his mind. _It's not like anyone else does._

Adele danced out of the kitchen, a plate of frosted cupcakes in her hand. "Are you boys sure you don't want any cupcakes? They're still warm."

"That's okay," Seishirou said, smiling at her as if they were old friends. Adele retreated into the kitchen.

"Do you think there's a feather in this world?" Syaoran asked, keeping his voice low.

"There is. About three miles north of here, if this little device is working." He indicated his glass eye. _So that senses magic, too, _Syaoran thought. _Why didn't he tell me that? It seems like something that ought to have come up by now. _"We'll go looking for it in a little bit, after I've made boarding arrangements with Miss Adele."

_A little bit. _The imprecise interval unnerved him. Whenever he'd come to a world before this one, the feather had been the number one priority. To have it pushed back to make living arrangements seemed reckless. _We don't know how long it's been here. At any moment, something could come in contact with it, and we could walk into a volatile situation._

"Oh," Seishirou said suddenly. "It moved."

"Moved?"

"The feather. It just teleported half a mile east of its original position. Hmm."

Syaoran stood. "We have to find it before it goes somewhere we can't follow."

"Sit down. If whatever's gotten hold of it can teleport, it'll likely be gone before we get there. See? It just moved again."

Syaoran closed his eyes, trying to focus on any nearby sources of magic. He thought he could feel a little tingle of energy, a leftover vibration of the feather's presence, but he couldn't even pinpoint the direction. "How do you sense magic? Is there a way to do that without a special device?"

"Of course. But you're not skilled enough to learn it."

Frustration welled up in his chest. "Then _teach _me! You said you would teach me how to fight, how to survive, back in Infinity. Remember?"

"I remember," Seishirou said cooly. "but you're not ready, and you're not going to be ready for a long while."

His shoulders sagged. "I need to know."

"Don't be so impatient."

The rebuke hit him like a slap. He sat down.

"We'll go in a few hours. Right now I have to take care of my brother."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking down at his feet.

Seishirou stood and walked over to the kitchen. "Oh, Miss Adele, I have a question for you."

_We'll find the feather, _he told himself, staring at his feet. _Seishirou's right; he's always right. And if it's moving around, that must mean something's already got a hold of it. We'll be facing an enemy whether we wait or not. _He closed his eyes. _There's always an enemy, always some force to fight against, human or not. I will always be fighting, no matter where I go._

In the kitchen, he heard Seishirou asking about a room for his brother, and the location of the nearest clinic. Adele answered in her soprano trill, offering them the three rooms upstairs. Syaoran tuned them out, keeping his eyes shut.

It was too early in the afternoon to nod off, and he was too careful after everything that had happened to do so, but he appreciated the mental break the inane conversation gave him. Ever since Infinity, he'd been living his life in his head as much as he had in his body, always thinking, planning, justifying his and his companions' actions. When sleep had ceased to be a reprieve, he'd retreated into his daydreams, thinking to himself, analyzing everything he heard from his so-called friends.

_They never cared, _he thought, all the little fragments of information flashing through his mind. _I was still alone when I was with them. They wouldn't even speak to me. So I started living my life in my head. I went back to those stolen memories, lived them again as if they were my own. I was selfish._

_No more. Whatever life I live now, it'll be my own._


	57. Recognized

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Evening had fallen in the country of Cirrus.

"How close are we?" Syaoran asked as they sprinted through the empty streets. He would've been more worried about traveling at such a speed if this world had displayed any sort of threat. Thus far, he'd seen no indication of law enforcement, not even a local militia or neighborhood watch. If anything, the people they passed looked curious, not afraid. _It's truly as if everyone in this world is a child, _he thought, marveling at their wonder.

"It's a mile out," Seishirou answered, moving fast. After a moment, he muttered a curse under his breath. "Now it's moved."

Syaoran suppressed a sigh, stopping short as he looked to the older man for a direction. After a moment, Seishirou turned ninety degrees and ran into a narrow alleyway between an ice cream shop and a library. Syaoran followed without a word.

"Two miles now. Whatever it is, it teleports every few minutes."

"Think we can make it?"

"Maybe."

_That's good enough. I've worked with worse odds than "maybe" before._ He kicked up his pace, until he was actually exerting himself. Seishirou sped up in response, to lead the way. The buildings, mostly primary colors in this part of Cirrus, flew by as blurs.

They reached the end of the alleyway and shot across the street, almost plowing into two twenty-five year old men wearing bright shirts and overalls, each holding lollypops as they strolled down the sidewalk.

They raced through another alley, toward the other end of town. He waited for his teacher to say that the feather had teleported again, knowing it could happen any second, and likely would. But the words didn't come, and he pressed on. _I have to get it back, _he thought. _For Sakura._

"A mile," Seishirou said.

_We're getting close. Maybe we'll get there in time. _They'd already missed five chances tonight. The closest they'd come was within a quarter mile. Syaoran had felt the distinct waves of Sakura's presence coming off the feather, had seen the warping of the air as the thing that carried it, whatever it was, vanished and reappeared somewhere else in the city. He didn't want to lose this chance, too.

"Half a mile," his mentor informed him.

"I'm ready."

Another minute of superhuman sprinting. "A quarter of a mile. I see it."

Syaoran looked up. They'd reached the edge of town, where the buildings thinned out, and the only traces of the childish city were the large sculptures in the shape of blocks and the silvery gates that belonged in a fairytale. _It's a park, _Syaoran realized, homing in on the feather's presence. It was so close now, he could distinguish the stronger waves from the weak echoes. His eyes scanned the grassy fields, trying to identify the source.

Dozens of birds had taken up residence in the park. The most common seemed to be the blue birds with crested heads. They flitted through the grass, pecking at the dirt beneath. As they approached, the majority of the small birds took flight, rising up in one synchronized movement. The cacophony of shrieking birds and flapping wings stabbed at his eardrums, but he couldn't focus on that because, as some of the birds took flight, their blue plumage flashed silver.

_Magic, _he realized at once. Half a second later, the glowing birds vanished from their place, the only mark that they'd ever existed in that space the threads of blue energy swirling through the air.

Once the first few birds disappeared, Syaoran got a clearer view of the others. Many of them continued to flap their wings, fleeing to the distant perches of the silver fence to roost. Syaoran stared at the remaining birds, trying to identify any unusual qualities. One stole his attention almost immediately. Twice the size of its fellow flyers, and with striking cobalt plumage, it was either an altogether different species, or an animal enhanced by magic. When Syaoran saw the twisting black pattern on its wing, he knew it was the latter. "That one," he said, pointing.

Beside him, Seishirou smiled.

* * *

><p>"It moved," Mokona called, voice high-pitched with excitement as her eyes flew open. "It's close! In that direction." She pointed with her paw, leaning out of Fai's shirt.<p>

Sakura glanced up in the direction Mokona had pointed. Her gaze fell across the grassy hillside between her and her feather.

"Let's go," Kurogane said. "Before it moves again."

_Finally, _she thought as she started running up the hill. Her metal brace _clunked _with each step, and the deep muscle cramps that had been plaguing her leg all day exploded at the force of her run. It surprised her to realize she hadn't actually _run _since before she'd received the crippling injury in Tokyo. _It feels like so long ago. Like time really did stretch on forever in Infinity. _

The others followed, seeming surprised by her sudden burst of energy. Her mind raced. _We're close. We're finally close enough to stand a chance. _For days, the feather had eluded them, transporting whenever they drew near, as if it could sense their intent and wanted to avoid capture. For a few of those days, they'd tried staying in one place, waiting for the feather to stray within their range. But their hotel room was located right in the middle of the city, and whatever creature was flitting around with her feather didn't seem inclined to stray within the walls.

So she ran up the hill, heart pumping hard as it adjusted for the exertion. Bolts of pain shot up her leg, like a thunderstorm had wrapped around her muscles and shocked her with lightning, but she pressed on. _This could be the only chance we get, _she thought, mouth opening as her lungs struggled to pull in more air. For all the sword practice she'd endured since they'd landed in Cirrus, she was still hopelessly out of shape. _The sooner we get the feather, the sooner we can go to another world looking for Syaoran-kun._

She crested the hill, almost ten yards ahead of her companions now. She wondered why Fai at least didn't run past her. With his vampire body, he should've been able to overtake her in just a few bounds. And Kurogane could've done the same in a few more if he'd been so inclined. _After all, I'm just a cripple._

Perhaps this was their way of giving her independence. More than anything, she wanted to get the feather back for herself, to prove she could do something useful besides sit back and win money in games of chance. If they'd noticed her sudden intensity, they might've realized how important this was to her. _I don't want to be a burden to them. _

As she reached the top of the hill, she took in the scenery below. She noticed a subtle shift from the strange architecture and brilliant colors of the rest of the city. Though this patch of land couldn't exactly be considered adult-like with the sculpted stack of wooden blocks standing behind the gate, it had a more refined air to it than the rest of Cirrus Country. _As if it was built for a young princess instead of a simple child, _she thought, catching her breath before staggering down the other side of the hill. Her leg gave out as it hit the awkward angle, and she tumbled forward, her shoulder hitting the ground. Her body rolled, the world spinning around her like the mechanical rides that had followed the traveling circus that visited Clow. Little jolts of pain shot through her body, none severe enough to cripple her.

_Besides, I'm already crippled. _She got to her feet, putting most of her weight on the good leg, and started running up the gentle slope that led up to the silver fence. She didn't even pause as her adrenaline-flooded body vaulted over the waist-high fence. _I'm better at this than I thought. _

Birds scattered, scared off by her sudden appearance. It reminded her of that place in Clow, where hundreds of desert birds had gathered to stare down at the edge of the city. Of the places she remembered, that one was the most exciting. She remembered bringing someone along, once . . .

_Another memory I haven't gained back, _she thought, sighing internally. She could think of a dozen people who might've filled that hole: guests from the palace, some of the guards she'd been close to, maybe even Touya. But none of those people seemed to fit in that memory, and she couldn't call back the face of whoever had been with her. _Maybe I'll remember with this feather._

The cloud of birds scattered, about half of them flashing blue and teleporting to some other part of the city. Sakura had seen dozens of birds like them since coming to Cirrus, and from the way they vanished and appeared so suddenly, she could only assume that one such creature had gotten hold of her feather and had been evading capture ever since. _There are a lot of them here. One of them must be right. _She looked around, trying to home in on any that might have a fragment of her memory. Before she could identify any specific bird, two figures caught her eye.

They were standing in the middle of the park, still except for their cloaks billowing in the wind. One figure stood almost two heads taller than the other, and his pale skin contrasted sharply with the midnight black of his hair. The shorter one was of more even coloration, his skin sun-bronzed, and his hair a chocolate brown. If she'd had time to examine them at length, she might've judged the shorter one to be the more handsome of the two, or at least the more natural-looking. But she couldn't focus on that because even as the dominant part of her mind rejected the possibility, a deeper part of her quivered with recognition.

"Syaoran-kun?"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note<em>

_I've been trying to do a bit better job with describing the scenery in this world, since I realized my world-building has been sub-par in the past few dimensions. Anyway, if you're feeling up to it, drop a review saying if this world was better described, or if the description was distracting, or any other recommendations you have. And thanks, as always, to my loyal readers and reviewers._


	58. Fought

Chapter Fifty-Eight

If he'd been human, he might not have heard the startled whisper. As it was, his head whipped around, eyes scanning the grassy park as his focus shifted from the feather to the one who'd said his name.

Across the field, Sakura stood, breathing hard. Her face, normally the fair skin tone of royalty, was flushed with exertion. _Did she run all the way up that hill? _he wondered, unable to look away from her face once his eyes found it.

"Little Wolf," Seishirou said behind him. "The feather, remember?"

_The feather. That's right, I have to get it back before the bird holding onto it teleports. _But he couldn't make himself look away from Sakura, not when she was looking at him for the first time in weeks.

He took a hesitant step toward her. It seemed almost like a dream when she did the same. _It's like she wants to see me again, _he thought. Before he could think anything more, Kurogane and Fai crested the hill beyond the fence. Syaoran tensed, feeling his claws slide another inch out from his fingertips.

Sakura continued to stare at him, her jade eyes wide with shock and fascination. Her gaze to his hands. _My claws, _Syaoran thought, ashamed. He recoiled from her gaze, flinched away from her horror. Within seconds, she would grasp the ramifications of what he'd turned into, realize he was a monster.

Behind her, Kurogane and Fai made those same connections. Syaoran's eyes flashed to each of their faces, measuring the shock and rejection in both. Fai stood frozen where he stood, clutching his furry winter coat with one hand. His eye was the same sapphire color the Other had seen throughout their whole journey, and there were no claws jutting out from his fingertips. _His control is far greater than mine, _Syaoran thought. _But that might give me an edge, if I have to fight him._

"Syaoran," Seishirou barked, farther away now. From the corner of his eye, Syaoran saw his new mentor wringing the neck of the teleporting bird, and retrieving the white feather that belonged to Princess Sakura. "Let's go."

His legs rooted him in place, but he managed to look back at Seishirou. The dark-haired man brought the feather inside his body, absorbing its power. _We don't need it, _Syaoran thought. _I could give it to Sakura right now._

It was an irrational thought, and he knew it. But she was _right there_, and returning the feathers to her was his duty. Had been ever since he'd joined them in Tokyo.

_But they never accepted you. _The thought seemed to come from outside his mind, it was so at odds with his own thought processes. This wasn't the time to be rash. This wasn't the time to feel distressed about what they thought of him. _In a fight, there is no time to think, only react._

His mind processed everything from Sakura's arrival to Seishirou acquiring the feather in less than a second. His gaze focused on a spot of light on the edge of the park, the glint of the moon reflecting off a steel blade. _Souhi, _he thought.

"I've been waiting for this rematch," Kurogane growled, his eyes focused on Seishirou.

"I'm afraid we have to be moving along now," the dark-haired man said with a smile.

"You're not going anywhere with him." Kurogane made a quick motion with his chin to denote Syaoran. _Me? _

"That's not up to you."

"I don't care." Kurogane took a step forward. Syaoran analyzed his stance, noting the precise angles at which he bent his knees, the sturdy base from which he worked. The ninja had to adjust slightly for the curve of the hill.

Seishirou grinned lazily, drawing his black sword from thin air. "The boy came to me."

"And now he's coming with us."

Syaoran felt a shiver of unease travel down his spine. _Why would they want me back? Fai tried to kill me. They both came after me in Infinity. Do they want to kill me on their own terms? But that doesn't make sense. It wouldn't matter to Kurogane-san, and Fai already tried in Infinity. Sakura wouldn't want to watch something like that . . . So there must be some other reason they need me back. Do they think I have more information about their enemy? I already told them what they need to know. Did they think I was holding back?_

_Why not? You lied to them about everything else. Visiting Seishirou, all those nightmares, every insecurity. _

Kurogane took another step forward. _He's got the higher ground, _Syaoran thought._ He should be at an advantage. _

"I thought you were all brute force," Seishirou said, noticing the same thing. "but you're a more clever creature than I thought." He took several sinuous steps forward. The ninja shifted slightly, taking a subtle defensive stance.

"One of us has to move eventually," the red-eyed man said. The moon glinted off Souhi again. It was as if the fairytale world they'd landed in had ceased to exist, leaving behind only the bloody dance of two opposing forces.

For the first time, Syaoran realized he had no idea which of them would win this confrontation. "We should go," he whispered, knowing the faint words would reach his mentor's sensitive ears. _And Fai's, too, if he's not too far away. _His eyes, gold with black slits for pupils, flashed to the magician. Fai gave no indication that he'd heard, but Syaoran wasn't sure he believed it. _Always in perfect control of himself, even now that he's contending with bloodlust. _

Seishirou advanced another step. Kurogane matched him. Fai leaned over to Sakura to whisper in her ear, and Syaoran found himself listening to that instead of paying attention to the fight.

"When their swords meet, run back to our place as soon as you can," Fai had said.

"No."

_No? _Syaoran thought, eyebrows knitting together. While he didn't doubt Sakura's willpower, he knew she hated bloodshed. It didn't make sense for her to watch this, but as he looked at her, he noticed the sword at her hip. It was a cheap thing; that much was evident from the dull metal of the handle and simple wooden sheath that housed the blade. If she'd picked it up in Infinity, as he'd hoped she would, it was likely the best they had to offer. No one was expected to survive long playing human chess, after all.

_But why would she want to stay, even if she's acquired some ability to fight? She must realize she's outmatched. _He frowned, watching her draw her sword.

Alarm passed across Fai's face. "Sakura-chan—"

"It'll be okay," she promised the magician. Her voice was so earnest, Syaoran had to believe her. Fai must've believed it, too, because he returned his attention to the escalating fight.

Kurogane and Seishirou were closer now, but not quite within striking range. They circled each other, wolves vying for territory. "Leave the kid with us, and I'll let you walk away," Kurogane said, never taking his eyes off the dark-haired man.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need him a little bit longer." Another step closer, almost within striking range now. Kurogane could use one of his special sword techniques and end Seishirou right then. One solid blast was all it would take.

_So why doesn't he attack? _Syaoran wondered. _Does he think he can negotiate with Seishirou? If he knew the stakes . . . _

The fight erupted. Within a fraction of a second, the two blades crashed against each other, and the sound of steel colliding with steel sang through the park. The sounds blended together, like a drum roll. Both men moved with seemingly unnatural speed, and Syaoran wondered if Kurogane had merely been holding back in all the previous fights, or if he had inexplicably gained the power to move like a vampire. Syaoran guessed the former. _He handled Seishirou well enough in Outo, and in Infinity. When he's fighting at full force, he's much more dangerous._

The warriors danced, swords coming together in a series of frenzied _clangs_. Syaoran winced at the sound of skin splitting apart. _But whose? _

_Does it matter? _

He shoved the last thought away. _Of _course _it matters. Someone is going to die in this fight, if no one stops it. _

_But does it matter who? If it's Seishirou, then you go back to the others prematurely, whatever they decide to do with you. If it's Kurogane, you stay with Seishirou and hope Sakura eventually comes to you looking for feathers. So does it really matter who wins?_

His hands tightened into fists, his own claws digging into the palm of his hand. _It matters. Because whoever loses is going to die._

"Stop it!" someone shouted. _Not someone. Sakura. _His eyes flashed to her gangly figure as she staggered across the grass, toward the fight. Her new sword hung awkwardly in her hands, pointed off to the side as she ran. _She can't honestly believe she can stop this, can she?_

Her leg brace creaked and groaned as she ran. The joints had never been intended for such exertion, and the screws holding the plates together were coming loose. Still, she pressed on, sprinting headlong for the fight. Syaoran took a clumsy step forward, his mind refusing to believe what his eyes were telling him.

_If she goes into that fight, she dies, _some part of him thought urgently. _You have to stop her._

But she was too close now. And how would he reach her before Fai reacted to his movements?

_There has to be some way to keep her from going over there. _He took another step forward, and saw the mage step forward in response to his movement. _I can't. He'll stop me before I make it._

The swordfight went on, neither combatant aware of the rest of the battle. Syaoran's mind worked furiously, looking for a solution. But there was only one thing floating around in his mind, and it would get him killed just as surely as going after Sakura would.

_You love her don't you? Don't you want her to live?_

He did. Even if the love he felt was born from the Other's memories, he wanted Sakura to live. _So long as she lives, I'll survive._

Steel met steel in a grating scream. A piece of metal came broke off from Sakura's leg brace, sending her staggering. He could see her trying to correct her altered gait, pushing herself forward in spite of her weakened leg.

There was one way to make her stop. One way.

_I am so sorry, _he thought, lifting his arm out in front of him. The words exploded from his mouth, none of his regret seeping into them. "_Raitei Shourai_!"


	59. Cracked

Chapter Fifty-Nine

The lightning split the battlefield in two, separating Sakura from the two warriors like a stone wall. Leg brace shattering, she fell on her face, inches from the outermost fingers of lightning.

Syaoran had about half a second to ascertain that she'd survived before he felt a hand coil around his throat. A snarl ripped through his teeth, and he pulled his sword from his body in one sinuous movement. Without even looking up, he knew it was Fai who'd attacked him. He was the only one besides Seishirou with the speed to get here that fast.

Risking Sakura's life on a bolt of lightning had been difficult. Bringing his sword around to tear open the magician's throat was easy.

Fai sprung up, avoiding the strike before falling back several steps. _Don't think, just react, _some part of his mind commanded. He brought the blade across in a wide arc, telegraphing his attack. Fai moved to evade him, oblivious to the feint, and Syaoran switched his angle of his strike, aiming for a vertical cut along the mage's windpipe. This time, the magician barely managed to avoid the hit.

"What are you _doing_?" Fai demanded, recoiling.

A rush of fury jolted through him, boiling the blood in his veins. _What am _I _doing? _he wanted to respond. _You tried to kill me last time I saw you! I'm defending myself._

He didn't waste his breath. Fighting was strenuous exercise, and he didn't dare waste any oxygen speaking when it ought to be going to his muscles to make them work.

He brought his sword around again. Behind him, he heard two voices rise up in panic.

"Little Wolf!"

"Kid!"

Syaoran didn't look back. Instead, he tried to make the next blow count. Fai dodged, but the tip of the blade nearly stuck him in the neck as it came around. _Just a little bit closer. _

"_Fix your stance. A solid stance will keep you from losing your balance." _The words, and their variations, ran through his mind so fast he could barely process them. _Kurogane-san's words, _he thought, his fingers tightening around the hilt. His next attack missed by a wider margin, affording Fai the time to regain his footing.

Behind him, he heard two sets of footsteps approaching. He hurried to finish the fight. _You tried to kill me, _he thought, looking at the one-eyed vampire in front of him. Fai's claws were fully extended now, and his eye glowed gold. _He has his weapons. I have mine. A fair fight._

_So why isn't he attacking?_

Syaoran swung again, the motion less controlled in his adrenaline-fueled hands.

"Kid, stop it!" That was Kurogane. _He still calls me kid, _Syaoran thought. _Why? Because he calls everyone my age "kid" or because he doesn't want to acknowledge me by name? _

Fai sidestepped this strike. His natural grace had only been enhanced by his transformation. The magician brushed aside the blade, claws running along the dull side. Too late, Syaoran moved to change its direction. Fai snatched his wrist before he could and twisted it around.

The sound of Syaoran's wrist snapping was nothing next to the shrill cry that exploded from his lips.

His sword fell the ground, landing softly in the grass. Fireworks of pain shot up his whole arm, and it was only by the mercy of adrenaline that he remained conscious.

"Calm down now," Fai murmured, as if he was comforting a crying Sakura. _H__e's the only one who can, now, _Syaoran thought bitterly. His fingers closed over Fai's wrist, sending another bolt of pain up his arm. But it didn't matter how much pain he was in, this fight wasn't over.

After all, he'd learned some new tricks since Seishirou had taken him in.

Ignoring the flashes of pain it caused him, he yanked on Fai's wrist. The sudden movement threw the magician off balance. Fai hit the ground, shoulder first, and rolled so he was lying on his back. Syaoran snatched his sword from the ground, never letting go. His left hand was not skilled with the blade as his right was, but with his opponent on the ground, he didn't have to be. It would only take one decisive blow.

"_Kid_!"

The word reached his ears as his blade carved a path through the air, but he ignored them. This was how the fight was supposed to end. He had to kill Fai before Fai killed him.

_You're a monster. _The accusation seemed to come from somewhere else just as much as it came from within. For the barest fraction of a second, the blade slowed.

_I can't lose this fight._

_This isn't who you are. _

Images of Souma's dead body flashed in front of his eyes, faster than he could've blinked. Killing her had been the single worst crime he'd ever committed, a sin that couldn't be forgiven. And that had been an accident.

_This isn't self-defense, this is murder! _some part of his mind shouted at him. His sword slowed further, then came to rest at the edge of Fai's throat, right where his carotid artery pulsed the strongest. A single blue eye stared up at him, pupil dilated with fear.

_He's defenseless, _Syaoran realized. _He can fight just fine when he's standing up, but he doesn't know how to fight from the ground. _

_Finish him and be done with it._

_If I kill him now . . . He's not trying to hurt me, or if he is, he's not succeeding. I'm in control now. It won't be an accident if he dies._

Shouts from outside pierced his eardrums. "Boy! Cut it out!"

_Boy, _Syaoran thought. _Kurogane-san only ever calls me that when he's upset. Otherwise it's just "kid."_

Another voice pierced the air, this one much closer than the other. "Finish it! He's a danger to us."

_Us? Yes, it's always "us" when Seishirou's talking to me. But . . . _His gaze drifted back down to the magician's face. His eye was still blue, but some of the fear had gone away, been replaced with resignation. _He's not even trying to fight me. I can't call this self-defense. This is murder._

"Syaoran-kun!" interrupted a new voice. _Her_ voice, strained with tears. "Syaoran-kun!"

_It would hurt her if he died, _Syaoran thought. Seishirou and Kurogane continued running toward him in slow-motion. _And that would be one less person to protect her until I return. _

His left hand hand went limp around the hilt. The other hand still clung to Fai's wrist, tight enough to make the magician lose circulation in his hand. Syaoran's own wrist throbbed with pain.

_It will hurt Sakura if she loses him. _

_You'll be a monster if you do it._

_This is murder._

He let go of the magician's wrist, taking a shaky breath as he stepped away. The world spun around him, but he managed to catch the look of surprise on Kurogane's face as the ninja reached them.

Time froze in the park. For an impossibly long moment, Kurogane stared at him. The look on his face seemed to ask: _why?_

If Syaoran could've answered, he would've said, "I don't know." Before he could say anything, a pressure on his left hand alerted him to Seishirou's presence. The dark-haired man tugged his arm urgently, dragging him away from the park. After a moment, Syaoran followed. _I can't go back yet. I still have a duty to attend to._

He was only partially aware of the multihued buildings they passed, only distantly cognizant of the black sky over their heads. His right wrist was swollen, and a deep ache pulsed through the flesh around the bone. With less adrenaline in his blood, the pain might've been enough to push him to tears. Right now, though, he was too dazed to register anything but the fight in the park.

_I can't believe I'm alive, _he thought, as they stepped into Adele's house.


	60. Examined

Chapter Sixty

Kurogane watched Seishirou drag the boy out of the park. The kid looked back at him for several seconds before finally turning his head away, but his expression was unforgettable. It was as if he'd narrowly avoided getting hit by a truck, and was still recovering from the shock.

Behind him, Kurogane could hear the princess calling the boy's name. A few feet in front of him, the mage sat up and blinked. Kurogane didn't have to ask if he was okay. There would've been no point to the boy's mercy if Fai had been seriously hurt.

"Are we going after him?" Fai asked. Not a suggestion or an accusation of heartlessness, but a request for orders.

"When the hell did I become the leader?" Kurogane demanded, more out of habit than malice. "Do whatever you want." He turned, sheathing Souhi. _The kid's long gone by now, anyway, _he thought.

The princess sat beside the scarred swath of grass, pieces of metal scattered all around her. It took him a moment to recognize the pieces of her broken leg brace. Cheap steel, like the sword in her hands.

_She could've been killed by that blast, _he realized. When he'd seen the flash of lightning, exploding so close to where he and the dark-haired bastard were fighting, he'd assumed the spell had been aimed for their fight. The fact that the blast had come so close to striking the princess threw him for a moment. Surely, the boy hadn't been aiming for her. Of all of them, the princess was both the least threatening in a fight and the most likely to stir some kind of sympathy in the kid. It didn't make sense for him to attack her, especially when there were better targets so close at hand. _So what was he doing? _

He walked over to the burnt patch of grass. Fai followed, then split off to comfort Sakura. Kurogane continued to the edge of the blackened grass, kneeling down to touch the ashes. Most of the embers had died out, but the ground was still warm. _It's too close to be a wild shot, _the ninja thought, though he'd doubted the kid would ever let loose such a weapon if he had no time to aim it. _A few feet in any direction, and someone would've gotten fried. If anything, it would've been easier to hit someone than it would be to miss. No, it's too perfectly placed. He meant to miss. _

His gaze traced the swath of damage, examining the perimeter. From tip to tip, the destruction reached over twenty feet. But even at its widest point, the scorched area was no more than two feet across. Highly controlled. _Too controlled to be an accident. He was trying to create a wall. _His eyes slid between the princess, struggling to compose herself, and the spot where he'd fought Seishirou. Between them was the spot the lightning had struck.

Fai looked on, perhaps making the same connections as he was. As silly and stupid as Fai sometimes acted, Kurogane knew they'd have to discuss this later. _The mage knows more about magic. He might know something I don't. Or that he might draw a different conclusion altogether. And with the boy turning into a vampire . . . _Kurogane frowned, replaying the day's events in his mind. The carefully-placed bolt, the brief scuffle between the boy and the mage, both vampires now, the moment when the boy had brought his sword down and frozen without piercing flesh . . . _Mercy. Why would he show mercy unless he intended to come back later? _

The princess's emotions had overpowered her desire to stay in control. She sobbed hysterically into the magician's shirt, her leg hanging at an awkward angle over the ground.

The ninja rose from his crouching position and looked over to the others. He considered sharing his theories with them. There was not a doubt in his mind that the placement of the lightning spell, at least, had been deliberate. But with the princess in hysterics, perhaps it wasn't the best time to try to explain. "Let's get back to the hotel," he said. "We should pack before we move on from here."

"We're going?" the magician asked.

He nodded. "We'd spend too long looking for Seishirou. We're better off in a new dimension, trying to get feathers that way."

"We'll have to go after Seishirou at some point."

_And not just because of the feathers, _the ninja thought. "Not now."

For once, the magician chose not to be his normal, annoying self. Instead, he just bowed his head and said, "Okay."

* * *

><p>"We need to reset the bone."<p>

Syaoran looked up from his swollen wrist. "Reset the bone?" he echoed uneasily.

Seishirou nodded. "If it heals wrong, it'll be painful later. It's better to reset it now."

He glanced around, as if searching for something to alleviate the pain of his throbbing wrist. In the toy-filled living room of Miss Adele's house, painkillers were the last thing one would expect to find.

"I've made tea," the woman said, strolling in from the kitchen. In her hands was a plastic platter with three plastic cups. She set it down on the edge of the couch and handed one to each of them, being careful of his broken hand.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"It's just what you need," Adele responded. It seemed like a strange way to answer a thanks, but Syaoran was too preoccupied to think about it.

Adele left, and Seishirou set his cup of tea aside. Syaoran finished his quickly, noting the strange taste of the herbs. He tried to identify whatever was in this tea, but it was no concoction he knew, or if he did, it wasn't something he'd ever tasted for himself. When he was done, he set the empty cup aside and held out his broken wrist. Seishirou's fingers probed around the disturbed skin, so gentle that Syaoran felt no extra pain at the pressure.

"You'll want to sit still for this," the dark-haired man said. "It's going to hurt."

Syaoran nodded, sinking into the back of the couch and bracing himself to feel the bones sliding together. His mind strayed away from the pain as his teacher manipulated his wrist. "Ready?" the man asked.

"Ready."

The pain of the bones reuniting was more sudden and shocking than Syaoran could've imagined, even worse than the initial break. A scream clawed its way up his throat, but he bit it back. This didn't surpass the agony he'd felt during his transformation, but it was closer than he'd ever wanted to come to reliving the pain. But it was the sound—the screeching and snapping of bones being realigned—that turned his stomach. He doubled over, as if to void his stomach right there, but a hand coiled around his throat and pushed him back into the sofa. Instead of bile, a whimper rose from his throat.

"There. It's over."

The words brought a torrent of relief matched only by the fast-healing ache in his wrist. He took several deep breaths.

"You'll start feeling better in a few minutes, but you shouldn't try to move for a while. You've been through a lot today."

He didn't even want to think about the screwed up circumstances he'd endured this evening. Seeing Sakura, nearly getting killed, breaking his wrist, sparing Fai . . . _Why did I do that? _he wondered, his attention slipping away from the pain. Back at the park, he'd had only a few seconds to process everything. A sane person would've vanquished their opponent, regardless of circumstances. An opponent he knew to be dangerous, one who had tried to kill him . . . It should've been so easy to swing his sword and end the confrontation right there. _So why didn't I?_

"I'm going to check on Fuuma upstairs. Stay here."

He couldn't muster up the will to respond. In fact, his whole body felt numb, as if he was drifting off to sleep. When he didn't answer, Seishirou left.

_Did I spare Fai because I'm too weak to kill him? _he wondered. _Have I let my emotions get in the way of the more practical solution? Or is it because I know I'll need him later? Sakura would've been upset if I'd killed him, but he came after me first. _He shook his head. "I can't think," he whispered to himself, too low for his teacher to hear upstairs. He hadn't been able to think since throwing the bolt between Sakura and the others. Even that, he'd done in the heat of battle, when his emotions were running high. _I should've done something else, _he thought. _Something less dangerous, like a wind barrier. That was reckless._

Images of the battle flitted through his mind. The bolt that had separated Sakura from the others, keeping her out of the fight; the instantaneous reaction from Fai; the sound of steel crashing against steel, announcing every decisive blow between his old mentor and his new one . . . Syaoran wondered who might've triumphed, if that battle had been allowed to come to an end. With Seishirou's supernatural speed and the longer reach of his sword, the natural conclusion would've been that he would've won. But somehow, Syaoran doubted that. Seishirou was only ever serious when it came to protecting Fuuma, and even then, he usually managed to maintain his lighthearted demeanor. Where Seishirou would've treated the battle as nothing more than a casual sparring match, Kurogane would've been serious, focused.

_Focused enough to kill a vampire in single combat? _he wondered, remembering what he'd heard of Kamui's combat skills in Tokyo, and what he'd seen of other vampires. Logic dictated that a human shouldn't be able to kill a vampire, at least not alone, but . . .

If the fight had come to its natural conclusion, one of them would've been killed. _If I hadn't thrown that bolt of lightning . . . If they hadn't been distracted by my fight with Fai . . . _He took a shaky breath._ Which of them would I rather have won? _

His eyes flashed to the stairs. Seishirou was likely letting their newest feather rest over Fuuma's heart, slowing the disease before it could spread further. _He's doing this for someone he cares about. Even if he was being playful in the fight, he wouldn't have let himself get killed. But what reason would Kurogane-san have to win the fight beyond finding one of the princess's feathers? If it came down to one feather versus his life, surely he would've chosen his life. He's too smart to throw it away when he knows there are other feathers to find. So why? Because he hated Seishirou enough to want him dead, even if he had to compromise is own survival? Because he needed me back for some reason? _

Above him, he heard footsteps moving across the carpet. A moment later, Seishirou descended the stairs and reentered the living room.

_I shouldn't even be thinking about this right now. I have a job to do. Seishirou-san wouldn't like it if I was thinking about the others. He'd say they betrayed me back in Infinity. He'd say I didn't need them._

_But if they betrayed me, why are they so desperate to get me back?_


	61. Searched

Chapter Sixty-One

The general consensus was that they'd leave at first light.

There wasn't much in the way of medical care in Cirrus; the lack of responsible adults meant there was no place where Sakura could get her leg brace repaired. They would leave, hoping to land in a more advanced world, where someone would be able to repair her brace, or even repair the damage to her leg. Until then, her limited mobility would keep them from seriously tracking down her feathers.

With Seishirou running around in this world, it was too dangerous to split up, or leave Sakura-chan alone.

Nonetheless, when Fai was sure Sakura-chan and Kurogane were both asleep, he crawled out of bed and slipped out the door, taking a card key with him so he could sneak back in before they woke. Fai swept down the stairs and crossed the lobby, not even pausing to look at the sleeping man behind the check-in desk. Cold air caressed his skin as he stepped outside, and for the first time in hours, he could breathe right again. This world had taken everything out of him the moment he had seen his brother's face, and the stress added by tonight's battle had worn him down to nothing.

_I never expected Seishirou to turn Syaoran into a vampire, _Fai thought as he crossed the street, though he knew the possibility should've crossed his mind. In Infinity, he'd learned that the dark-haired man was also a vampire. That was the only way to explain the supernatural speed and easy grace of the man's movements. Maybe he hadn't guessed because he wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, least of all someone he'd known personally. _How is Syaoran-kun handling it? _he wondered as he walked down the sidewalk. This late at night, the streets were clear. It was probably stupid to hope he'd run into the person he was looking for, but . . .

He kept walking, pushing the thoughts of this evening's fight out of his mind. He'd already replayed the events over and over in his head. He knew Syaoran's act of mercy hadn't been intentional. He'd seen the conflict raging in the brunette's eyes in the seconds before the others had arrived. _No, he couldn't have known he would spare me until he backed off. Even so . . . I expected him to kill me._

Fai chuckled to himself. _Funny. I always expect that, but no one ever tries._ He wrapped his coat a little tighter around his body as a gust of wind pierced the soft folds. Cirrus was named for the wispy clouds born of ice crystals. Fai supposed the country took after its namesake well enough. _Even in the summer, it is nearly as cold as Ceres. When winter comes, how do these people survive? They are as childish as me. They should not live in such a brutal climate. _

It was a bit of a walk, but eventually, he made it to his destination. Cinnamon and other sweet spices floated through the air, mixing with the scent of fresh bread and cloying odor of sugar cookies. Fai turned the corner and faced the small bakery. The windows blazed with fluorescent lights—given the nature of baked goods, most bakeries functioned through the night so they could sell in the morning. He stepped inside, relieved to find that, despite the late hour, the front door was unlocked.

A voice came forth from the kitchens, muffled by the hum of refrigerators and freezers. "Cato, is that you? I need your help with the frosting." The speaker stepped out of the kitchen, a pan of muffins in his hands. When he saw Fai standing at the door, he froze. "You again."

Fai stepped toward his twin. "It's me," he confirmed. The blond man—an alternate version of the _real _Fai—retreated a step, his gloved hands tightening around the edges of the pan.

"You're . . . Who are you?"

He gave his twin a small smile. "Is there any way you can take the rest of the night off?"

The blond glanced back into the kitchen. Fai heard footsteps moving across the tiled floor, and pans of pastries scraping against ovens.

His twin set the pan of muffins aside. "Stay right there. I'll be back in a minute." He hurried off into the kitchen.

Fai took a seat on one of the stools and waited for his brother to return. Beyond the decorated wall, he heard the blond requesting the rest of the night off. A woman answered back, in a tone that reminded him of Kurogane's abrasive demeanor.

"Do you have to go right _now_?" the woman grumbled. "We have six birthday cakes we need done before the weekend."

"I know, but . . . Please, I have to go."

"I let you out last week so you could play Frisbee with your cousin. How much time off do you think you need?"

"Please, Rin. I can't explain, but this is important. I might never get a chance like this again."

There was a pause, then a sigh. "You can have the rest of the night off, but expect to be pulling a double shift at some point this week to make up for it."

"Thank you."

Quick footsteps across the kitchen preceded the rustle of a coat. A few quick goodbyes spilled over to his coworkers, along with thanks for picking up his shift. And then he was up front again, stepping around the counter. "I know a place where we can talk," he said, pushing his arms through his sleeves.

Fai nodded, following him out. As he did so, he catalogued details of his twin's appearance. It was much the same as his own, which he'd expected, but he could pick out some differences. His twin's hair was a shade darker than his own, unbleached by the sun. Traveling in search for Sakura-chan's feathers had afforded him more time in the sunlight than he'd ever experienced, causing painful sunburns and dying his hair a lighter shade of gold.

The other man also had two eyes, the same sapphire color as his single eye. Their features were identical, but Fai kept looking for signs of poor nutrition or sickness in his twin's features. This man was human, and likely unskilled in combat. There was a great number of things that could happen to him that could cause him to die prematurely. _Not while I'm here, _he thought, trying to smile as his twin glanced back at him. He looked uneasy, as if meeting him had opened up some door he was afraid to pass through.

_I would be uneasy, too, if I saw a stranger who looked just like me. _

His twin ducked under the eaves of a train station and pulled the door open. "We can talk in here. It's warm, and no one will give us weird looks."

Fai stepped inside, pushing through the cloud of compressed air. His twin passed him, then led him to a bench shoved up against a fountain. A few other people came and went, probably people working the late shift at whatever jobs they had here. Even if everyone in this country was treated as a child, there had to be at least some responsible adults working to keep it running smoothly.

"Who are you?" his twin asked, looking at him with unease.

Fai tried to be serious. "I am . . . a traveler. I visit many different countries, in search for these magical feathers."

The other man looked at him, as if he couldn't quite believe the words. He swallowed. "Where are you from?"

"From a place called Ceres." He waited to see if the name held any meaning for the baker, but the man gave no indication that he'd understood.

"I've never heard of it. Is it a small town?"

Fai smiled to himself. "No. Quite the opposite. Ceres is a country in and of itself, led by a monarch by the name of King Ashura."

"It's . . . a country? Then why have I never heard of it?"

"Because it's not a country of this world."

The man stared at him. "You're crazy," he whispered, standing up. Fai caught his forearm and pulled him back down into a sitting position, keeping his grip firm, but gentle enough that his twin would be able to slip away if he felt threatened.

"There are a great many things you don't understand," he said softly. "And a great many things you will never understand. But before you write me off as a schizophrenic lunatic, hear me out."

His twin looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "How did you know where to find me?" he demanded. "And why do you look just like me? Are you . . . You can't be any sort of clone. That's impossible. So, some long-lost twin, or just a doppelganger, or . . . Who are you?"

His smile was pained. "You can call me Yuui."


	62. Undecided

Chapter Sixty-Two

The first thing Syaoran heard when he woke up was the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears. He sat up, his back rigid as his eyes scanned the room for the mismatched eyes that tormented his dreams. His sharp vision pierced the darkness with ease, but he couldn't find the monster anywhere.

It took him a moment to realize he was lying on Miss Adele's couch. _A dream . . . _he thought, resting his uninjured hand over his heart. He could feel it beating through the fabric of his shirt. _I just fell asleep without taking my pills. That's all._ He swung his legs over the side of the couch, freeing himself from the smothering comforter someone had draped over him. _Probably Seishirou, _he figured. _But it could've been Miss Adele, too. _

Adrenaline flowed thick through his veins, and he knew he wouldn't fall asleep again tonight. His eyes scanned the room for a clock, hoping to gain some bearing on how long he'd have to wait before it was acceptable to be awake. It wasn't even five in the morning yet.

He sighed, standing up and walking over to the coat rack by the door. Though he didn't get cold anymore, it would've looked strange to be wandering around at this hour without a jacket of some kind. _Well, it's still strange to be wandering around at this hour, but there's not much to be done about that. _He stepped outside, greeted by the chilly winds.

He didn't know where he was going, but he was glad to be going there of his own free will instead of being controlled by his clone. With his pills, it had been over a week since he'd dreamed. The Other had evidently been waiting for a moment like tonight's, because as soon as he'd slipped into a dream, his clone had greeted him with a fresh pile of corpses. The dream had lasted only a few minutes, or that was how he perceived it, but the horror had been enough to startle him into awareness.

_And thank goodness, or I could've been walking around like a puppet right now, _he thought, crossing the empty street and continuing down the sidewalk.

His wrist still ached, but despite the swelling, the pain wasn't too bad. _There was something in that tea Miss Adele gave me, _he thought._ A sedative to make me sleep, but also something to take the pain away. If only I'd realized soon enough to take my pills. _He sighed. _She meant well. It doesn't matter now, anyway._

Truthfully, he still felt a bit drowsy. The refreshing bite of the breeze cleared his head somewhat, but if he fell asleep out here . . . _Someone could find me. And that someone might not be Seishirou. _

So he kept walking, feet heavy with the effects of the tea. _Did I bring my pills with me? _he wondered, fumbling in his pockets for the little orange bottle. He found none. _Damn. I can't let myself fall asleep then. _Images of the Other flashed through his mind, both the visions sent to him through dreams, and fragments unseen but imagined. His heart started pounding again, loud in the silent night. This kind of adrenaline rush was separate from its siblings. It was not the thrilling high of a carnival ride, nor the short-lived panic after a near-accident. It wasn't the helpful edge given to his body in a fight. It was a deep, sickening fear that made the world spin around him.

"Just stay in control," he whispered to himself, though that was getting harder and harder with each passing day. It was the small lapses in judgment—the mercy he'd shown Fai in the battlefield when common sense dictated he should strike; the risk he'd taken trying to separate Sakura from the others; allowing himself to fall asleep without first taking his pills . . . All the small lapses, all adding up to a greater sense that his life was beginning to spiral out of control.

_I should go back, _he thought. _Seishirou won't be happy I left, but he'll know what to do. He'll say something, and everything will be clear and simple again._

_Except that it won't. _He bit his lip. _Because there's something he's not saying._

After all Seishirou had done for him, Syaoran hated himself for thinking it. But it was true. There were things his mentor wasn't telling him—was actively keeping from him. Like his exact purpose in this journey. _In Infinity, he said he needed to make use of my magic. But Seishirou has magic of his own, and if he needed another person to help him, he could've found someone from any world he'd visited. So why _my _magic, when I only know spells capable of destruction? Is there something I'm missing? Something he knows about me that I don't? How could he, when he only knew my clone? _

_It's possible he's getting the information from an outside source. Yuuko might be passing it on to him. He said he's been in contact with her. But even so, what would she know about me that I couldn't figure out on my own? No, it doesn't add up. There's no reason Seishirou would need _me _to help him. _

_So why? Why is he so intent on bringing me along? He threatened Sakura, tried to kill everyone by burning down the Ephemeral Apartments. It's obvious that there's something that compelled him to bring me along, over everyone else. _Syaoran tried to recall what little his mentor _had _told him. _He said I was honorable. Whether or not that's true is debatable, but _he_ believes it. Is that why he chose me over someone else? Because he knew I would stick with him once I decided to go? Or is it because we're going into something that's going to require me to make some difficult decision to do the right thing? _

He frowned, walking past a bakery. The smell of cinnamon rolls reached his nose, a powerful, cloying fragrance. A week ago, the strong smell might've made his mouth water. Now, there was only one substance that could make his stomach feel hollow, and it wasn't a pastry.

_Seishirou said I'd be able to go back to the others as soon as my work with him was done. Yet so far, he's done nothing but remind me of their betrayals, of how they hated me. Why? He can't think I'd up and leave _now_, after he's saved my life. And if it was concern that motivated those words, they wouldn't sound so harsh. Yes, Fai tried to kill me, and today I showed him mercy. But Seishirou keeps talking about how Kurogane-san allowed it to happen, about how they're both irredeemable. Seishirou-san and Kurogane-san fought each other in Infinity. If either of them could've prevented it, they would have._

_Wouldn't they? _He tried to remember the look he'd seen on the ninja's face, right before everything had gone dark in Infinity. The shock. The anger. Whatever their intentions, Kurogane, at least, hadn't known Fai was going to kill him. _He couldn't have stopped it. And Seishirou must know that. But why does he keep telling me it's their fault for not saving me? _

His mind drifted back to the fight yesterday evening, and the tangled mess of thoughts he'd experienced afterward. He remembered asking himself which of the two—Kurogane or Seishirou—he would rather have won if the fight hadn't been interrupted. When he'd first thought it, he'd resorted to logic to determine which of them would've probably won. He'd confused who he would've _wanted _to win with who was _most likely _to win. With a vampire's reflexes and an equal degree of skill as his previous mentor, the odds leaned toward Seishirou coming out alive.

_But if I'd had to choose someone to root for, _Syaoran thought. _It wouldn't be Seishirou._

He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the cold for the first time since leaving Miss Adele's house. Perhaps the tea had some side effects that messed with his sensitivity to temperature. Even in a blizzard, his stronger body shouldn't be so affected by the cold. _I should go inside, where its warm, but Miss Adele's house is so far away. _His eyes scanned the street for a building that might be open. Eventually, his gaze strayed to the blazing windows of a train station. His legs propelled him forward, stiff with cold.

_I can't control what Seishirou does or doesn't tell me, _he thought as he walked. _But I _can_ remember what Kurogane-san taught the Other in Outo. How not to hurt the people I care about. How to show mercy._

The revolving door spun as he shoved into it, and a warm gust of compressed air greeted him as he entered the train station. His ears picked up on the distinct rumble of a train sliding across metal tracks. A flash of movement caught his eye, a silver train coming in and unloading its passengers. People flooded out as soon as the mechanical doors parted. _That's the first thing I've seen in this country that isn't either primary colors or decorated with plastic animal shapes, _Syaoran thought, staring at the sleek nose of the train. _Maybe it's bringing people from somewhere beyond Cirrus._

The last of the people stepped off the platform, and the doors slid closed again. The train lurched forward with a whistle, then sped off, pushing a cushion of air out across the lobby. Syaoran turned away from the gust, shielding himself instinctively. As he looked away from the train, his eyes grazed a pair of figures, identical in everything except their clothing. One of them was facing away from him, the only visible part of his body the golden crown of hair on his head. The other man had the same light mop of hair. With his sharpened sight, Syaoran could see the sapphire color of this man's eyes, downcast though they were. _Two eyes, not one, _he thought, unable to look away. _Another Fai-san?_


	63. Copied

Chapter Sixty-Three

Fai stared at the blond man in front of him, trying to come to terms with everything he'd been told over the past two hours.

At first, he'd thought the one-eyed man was nothing more than an eccentric addition to Cirrus country, unremarkable among the odd population except for his physical scars. But when he'd said the impossible words, any notion of this being a stranger fled from the baker's mind.

"You can call me Yuui," he'd said, so casually.

Yuui. Yuui, who had perished over a decade ago in a hospital bed outside of Cirrus. "How do you know about Yuui?" he'd demanded. For a moment, it had looked like his copy's single eye had flashed gold instead of blue.

Fai had decided, in that moment, to treat everything he heard from that point on as a sort of dream. He'd come to Cirrus hoping for a break from the pain—the constant torment of seeing the empty chair where his twin brother had sat to watch TV, or of picking a box of frosted cereal from the cupboard only to remember it had been Yuui's favorite. Fai had convinced himself that, despite the childish surroundings and quirky townsfolk, he was recovering from the loss.

"So there _was _someone like me in this world," the one-eyed man had said, a moment later.

Fai had shot to his feet then, fighting the stabbing agony of the memory, the unbearable images of his brother's wasted face. "I have to go back to the bakery," he'd said, snatching his coat from the bench and shoving his arms through the holes.

And the one-eyed man—the one who looked _exactly _like him except for the eye patch and the extra inch or so of hair hanging over his face—had snatched his arm and said, "I'm not him" in such a sorrowful tone that Fai had slumped back into the bench for an explanation.

It had taken an hour for this Yuui to explain. At first, Fai had wondered if this man was actually insane. They allowed quirky people to come up to this country—sent them in droves, in fact, just to get them out of their adult world and into a place where they could be better cared for. Half an hour in, after the one-eyed man had described in detail two countries that didn't _exist_, Fai had revised his initial assumptions, guessing this Yuui was a creative genius of some sort.

"And that's when Mokona took us to this country," the man said with a note of finality. Fai stared at him.

And stared. Waiting for the cameras to pop out at last so his look-alike could tell him it was all an elaborate trick.

When nothing happened after several minutes, Fai sunk into the bench. "You said your name was Yuui?"

The one-eyed man nodded. "That's right."

"And you're from another dimension, where you're the highest ranking magician at a royal court?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And you've been traveling through various dimensions in search of these magical feathers?"

"That's correct."

Fai closed his eyes. "That sounds like a fairytale," he whispered.

Yuui—or, if the man's explanations weren't utter bullshit, an alternate version of Yuui—opened his mouth to speak, but Fai held up a hand to give him pause.

"This is insane," Fai said shakily. "I should be back at the bakery, making cakes with Cato, or frosting cupcakes for tomorrow morning, or . . ." His head dropped into his hands. "This is insane."

"It's a lot to take in. But you have magic in your world, too, like those birds that teleport from place to place."

"Jumpjays," he said, giving Yuui the name for the common creatures. "They're just pests."

"But they have magic that allows them to jump from place to place. Is it so hard to believe that other magic exists as well? Like the power to jump between dimensions?"

_That's the problem, _Fai thought. _It makes perfect sense, and it's still insane. _"Give me a minute, okay? I need . . . Just a minute"

The one-eyed man nodded, frowning. _He looks like a lost puppy when he frowns like that. Just like my brother did, before he got sick. But that was so long ago. My Yuui was only ten when he died. And this guy . . . He's says he's hundreds of years old, but there's no way. _He sighed. "Why should I believe that? You said you used to do magic, but you won't _show _me anything."

"I can't. That was part of the price I paid to cross dimensions."

_He says that like it makes sense. How much science fiction does this guy read? Then again, strange as his explanations are, they aren't very technical. But this is too weird. Who makes up a story like this and expects people to listen?_

_No one. There'd be no point in such a detailed explanation. It's like he's really telling the truth. And he certainly doesn't talk like he just flew over the cuckoo's nest. _

"Do you believe me?" the one-eyed man asked, after a long moment.

Fai opened his eyes and gazed off at the crowds of people as they stepped off the train. He sighed. "Yeah, what the hell. I believe you. But why? Why are you so compelled to explain this to me. I mean . . . I don't even _know _you."

"No," Yuui said. A lump rose in Fai's throat at the sorrow in his voice. "But I wanted to know _you_."

"Why?"

"My brother . . . He jumped from a tower and died. You remind me of him." The man curled up, hugging his knees as his eye drifted up to the tiled ceiling. He didn't seem inclined to say anything more.

Fai leaned against the back of the bench, shutting his eyes for just a moment. Thinking of Yuui—his Yuui, the one he'd lost years ago—brought a whole host of unpleasant sensations back to him: the medicinal stench of the hospital, the papery bed sheets his brother had curled up in at night in those final, nightmarish months, the sound of shoes clicking against the tiled floor as the doctors returned to the waiting room to give them the news. Yuui had died of natural causes. His death had, ultimately, been inevitable.

But this Yuui had lost his brother to suicide. Fai couldn't think of a more traumatic end. "What was his name?" he asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

"Fai. His name was Fai."

Fai glanced down at the wooden slats of the seat. "You really are telling the truth."

The wizard—Fai could accept the fact that this man was a wizard now, even if he hadn't witnessed a single spell—nodded absently. After a few minutes of silence, Yuui spoke again. "My friends and I have to leave first thing tomorrow morning. We have to start looking for Princess Sakura's feathers again."

"You're leaving?"

"I have to."

"But . . . So that's it? You told me all this, and now you're just going to _leave_?"

The magician shrugged. "When I can't handle what's going on around me, I run away. I ran away from Ceres, and I ran away from my friends tonight because I couldn't bear the thought of missing this chance. I'm still running from my king, in the hopes that I'll be far away when he awakens. But _you _don't have to run. You can stay wherever you want to be, do whatever you want to do. You have the option to make a life for yourself."

"So do you," Fai responded, more fiercely than he'd intended. "The Yuui I knew died before his time, but he never would've run from anything. So, if you're really him . . . or even if you just have the same soul . . . don't run away. Whatever your problems are, face them head on, without hesitation."

Yuui stared at him, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Something he'd said had rendered the wizard speechless, though when he reviewed his impassioned speech, he found nothing that could've specifically triggered the silence.

Fai glanced around, disquieted by Yuui's unwavering stare. His gaze fell upon a young boy with cinnamon-brown hair and chocolate eyes. The boy stood across the station from them, not far from the doors, but his gaze was almost as intense and unnerving as Yuui's had been a moment ago. "Hey," Fai said, pointing. "Do you know that kid?"

Yuui blinked(winked?) and turned toward the brunette. His shoulders stiffened for a moment before he rose to his feet. The boy's attention shattered, and he darted off, shoving his way through the revolving doors and into the street.

"Thank you for speaking to me," Yuui said earnestly, standing up. "But I have to go." The one-eyed man plucked his coat from the bench and skipped over to the door, leaving Fai behind.

_What a strange world this is, _he thought as Yuui vanished.


	64. Concerned

Chapter Sixty-Four

Instinct goaded his legs forward, but panic crippled his coordination. Syaoran tripped twice before reaching to the crosswalk, and by then, Fai was right behind him. He darted across the street, not even looking for traffic. He'd yet to see a single car in this country, though the people seemed fond of bikes and oversized tricycles. Given the late hour, it would've surprised him if anyone was on the road at all.

"Wait!" Fai called, only a few feet behind. Syaoran felt the magician's fingertips brush against the back of his shirt and pushed his numb legs forward, breathing hard. By the time he reached the next intersection, the magician was far behind him. He darted across the street, surprised when a forty-year-old almost ran him over on a bike, and continued down the sidewalk, running until it felt like his lungs were going to implode. Dizziness swamped his thoughts, pushing them away so the only thing he could think or feel was the raw panic. Still suffering from the drowsiness leftover from Adele's tea, he couldn't even stand straight.

_I should've stayed in bed, _he thought, leaning against the smooth wall of an ice cream shop to catch his breath. His legs gave out. _What was in that _tea_? _he wondered, glancing over his shoulder. Through the grey smudges in his vision, it took him a moment to realize he was still being pursued. "Damn . . ." he muttered, rising up and staggering a few more feet. He turned into an alleyway, hoping the confined space would offer some small degree of protection. As he tripped over a garbage can and into a chain-link fence, he realized that had been a mistake.

"Syaoran-kun?"

He leaned against the side of the building, head between his knees, trying to breathe. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as the dizziness dragged him down. "Get away from me," he hissed. _You're the last person I want to talk to._

_You shouldn't be so mean, _part of his mind criticized. _You were friends once. _

"Are you all right?" Fai's voice was quiet, subdued.

"_Go_."

The magician didn't respond. After a few seconds, Syaoran heard approaching footsteps. He retreated, eyes flashing gold. The wizard held a hand out, in a gesture one might use to approach a wounded child to show they weren't dangerous. Knowing better, Syaoran slid back until he hit the fence. "No closer."

"All right. All right." Fai sat down, cross-legged, at the end of the alley. Syaoran watched, body tensed for the moment the mage would attack. When he didn't move for several minutes, Syaoran began to wonder what the wizard was trying to do. _Does he think he can make me drop my guard after he's tried to kill me twice? _

Instead of asking those questions, Syaoran asked, "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"You saw the person I was with in the train station?"

"Yeah? You have a brother you never told us about?"

Fai winced. Some small part of Syaoran's heart twisted with guilt. But the magician answered. "I had to meet him. I just . . . had to."

Some of the darkness in his field of vision was starting to clear up. He took another deep breath. "Yeah. I get that," he finally said, imagining what he'd do if he ran into an alternate version of Sakura. "But why did you follow me?"

Fai frowned, his gaze drifting to the ground. Minutes passed before he answered. "We miss you."

He glanced up sharply, then winced at the flash of pain in his head. "You don't miss me," he said coldly.

"We all miss you," Fai said, a little more insistently. "Mokona and Sakura-chan, of course. Kurogane misses having you as his student and . . . I miss you, too."

"You wanted me dead a few weeks ago." _You said so._

"I was wrong."

"Do you have any _idea _how close you came to killing me?"

Fai's response was automatic, almost mechanical. "Your heart stopped beating. If you'd been in a dimension where that was the final criteria for death, it would've been impossible to revive you. Luckily, Infinity requires extended cardiac arrest or massive, irreversible brain damage before they consider a patient dead. Seishirou revived you by turning you into a vampire, and you've been traveling with him ever since. Is that about right?"

"It's not that simple." _You didn't feel the betrayal I felt. You didn't kill someone trying to drain them dry. You don't have to live knowing everyone you care about hates you. _

Fai looked at him for a long moment, his expression shifting from careful neutrality to concern. "Syaoran-kun . . . When was the last time you fed?"

He tried to piece together how long it had been since he'd killed Souma in the jungle world. _We spent a day there, then a little over a week in Avantine. Then a few days in the snowy country . . . How long is that? _He frowned, the hollow yearn in his stomach growing more pronounced the more he thought about it. "I don't know. A couple weeks."

The magician threw him a look of disbelief. "You need to feed more often than that."

"It doesn't bother me."

Fai rose from his crouch. Syaoran shrunk back, his unbroken hand clutching the fence and pulling him into a weak standing position. _Is he right? Is that why I feel so weak? _"Stay away."

The vampire crossed the distance between them. Syaoran felt his claws elongate. "You have to feed. Tonight. Now."

If it had been someone else giving the order—Kurogane, or Sakura, or Seishirou—he might have given in. As it was, he shrunk back, raising a clawed hand to defend himself. "I can handle it."

"It's only going to control you if you try to ignore it."

"How would you know?" he demanded, feeling the first real flash of anger he'd felt all night. "You'll never understand the position I'm in."

"I do understand."

"You think so?" He felt the sharp shift from anger to exasperation. "Will you ever go hungry, if you land in a world where the only humans are the people you've been traveling with? Will you ever have to worry about how to disable a perfect stranger and rip open an artery without killing them or getting caught? Will you ever even have to feel the discomfort brought on by hunger—real hunger, not just an empty stomach? No. Because you have someone you'll always be able to rely on to take care of you. What I am . . . What I've become . . . You will never understand me." Fighting the dizziness, he pushed his way past the magician and staggered over toward the street. A hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him back. It took everything he had not to retaliate.

"Let me go," he said quietly. _Control. I must remain in control of myself._

"Why hasn't Seishirou made you feed yet?" Fai asked. "He's the one who turned you. He should be teaching you how to deal with this."

"I _am _dealing with it."

"You're irritable. You can't stand up straight. Even now, you're finding it hard to focus. All signs that you've let your hunger gnaw away at you. If you don't feed soon, you won't be able to control yourself."

"I'm in control," he whispered.

The hand released him, but he didn't move. He stared at his feet for a few seconds, taking deep breaths.

"Sakura-chan wouldn't want you to punish yourself like this," Fai said, as if he had personal experience. "If not for yourself, do it for her."

_Drink blood for Sakura? Tear someone's throat out for her? _"I can't."

"Kurogane argues with me because I don't take care of myself. But Sakura-chan would do the same for you. Don't you want to come back at all?"

He tried to meet the magician's eye, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from his feet. "Come back?" he echoed softly.

Fai rested a hand on his shoulder. "We would let you come back."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

His sharpened teeth buried themselves into his lower lip, piercing the delicate skin. "There's something I need to do."

Fai was quiet for a moment. Syaoran supposed he could've used the moment to flee, but his legs felt like overcooked noodles beneath him, and it took all he had to stay standing. _He's right, _Syaoran realized. _I've ignored the hunger too long. It's starting to affect me. _

"We don't have to tell anyone about this," the magician finally said.

"Tell them about what? They aren't stupid—they must've realized what I've turned into. They'll know what it means."

"I mean about our meeting tonight," Fai clarified. After a moment, he asked, "What did Seishirou ask of you?"

He glanced away. Part of him argued against spilling his mentor's secrets so casually, but another part of him wanted to justify leaving in Infinity. "Do you remember Fuuma-san? From Tokyo?"

Fai nodded. "I saw him in Infinity, too, before . . ." He trailed off.

"He's grown very ill since we last saw him. Seishirou thinks there's some way to save him, but he needs my help to do it."

"What does he need you to do?"

"I don't know."

"And you trust him?"

Syaoran bristled. "I trusted _you_," he growled, facing the magician again. A look of hurt flickered across the Fai's face, and twin pangs of petty pride and guilt twisted through him. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Fai cut him off.

"I never meant to hurt you. I was cursed, from a very young age, to kill the first person I met with greater magical power than my own. With my magic reduced as it was, and yours amplified by the feather you were carrying . . . There was no way to stop. Everything else in the world ceased to matter. I—" He broke off, losing his composure. Syaoran stared at him, his anger dissolving when he saw the look of desolation in the magician's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Syaoran whispered. Fai's eye flashed up to him, still the same sapphire color the Other had known.

"You're . . . No. You shouldn't be sorry. It was _my _fault—"

"If we're going to hunt," Syaoran interrupted. "we should go before Seishirou realizes I'm gone."

Fai looked at him a moment more, then nodded. "Okay. Let's hunt."


	65. Hunted

Chapter Sixty-Five

Syaoran allowed Fai to lead him back to the train station, on the condition that Fai wouldn't stray behind his back and that he would leave as soon as their hunt was over.

"Why are we stopping here?" Syaoran asked as they pushed their way through the revolving doors. Speculating was all well and good, but a solid answer was better.

Fai's eye drifted over to him, blue and unthreatening. Still, Syaoran tensed, ready to bolt at the first sign of betrayal. If the others were lying in ambush . . . _Then what? Are you going to kill them? Run? What _can _you do? _His eyes scanned the shifting masses of people. As daybreak drew nearer, the flow of traffic increased, and identifying any one face became almost impossible. He caught sight of a girl who looked like an older version of Chun-yan, from Koryo, and this world's Arashi. Fai raised a hand to point to a blond man with sapphire eyes. _The other Fai, _Syaoran thought, a lump forming in his throat.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

"There's no harm in asking," the magician said, giving him a sad smile. It was nothing like the exuberant grin he'd favored the Other with, but it was more than Syaoran was used to seeing. "And isn't it better to find a willing donor instead of hunting someone down?"

He winced, images of Souma's corpse flashing through his mind.

"I'll talk to him," Fai said. "Will you wait here?"

Syaoran nodded, eyes sliding back to the door as he contemplated fleeing. The farther away the magician strayed, the easier it would be to slip away.

_But he's right. It's better to take from a willing donor than to kill someone by accident. And asking Seishirou about this would be . . . painful. _He remembered his mentor's annoyance at his unwillingness to feed on Souma. _I needed blood a lot more then, but even so . . . Asking me to take her blood against her will, while she was screaming about us being monsters . . . There had to be a better way. Like what Fai's doing now. _He watched the blond cut through the crowd and speak to his two-eyed double. With all the chaos of a busy train station, he couldn't make out the words, only watch the strange copy of Fai react to the magician's explanations.

The conversation seemed to go rather fast, given the subject matter. Fai beckoned him after just a minute, and Syaoran made his way to the doppelganger.

"Syaoran, this is Yuui," the magician said. The other man started a little at the name, but Fai swept on. "And he's agreed to help us."

_Does he know what he's helping with? _Syaoran wondered, his gaze sliding over to the human copy of Fai. _Yuui. His name is Yuui in this world. Remember that, and maybe you won't end up killing him. _He took a hesitant step forward.

"I know just the place we can go for some privacy," Yuui said. "There's a staircase leading up to the roof. No one will notice us up there."

Syaoran looked down. "Thank you."

"You can thank your friend for explaining everything to me beforehand."

He looked up sharply, deciphering Fai's expression for any hint of a trap. For all he knew, the others were waiting on the roof. The magician returned his gaze evenly. "Thank you, Fai-san . . ."

The other man glanced sharply at the magician, but quickly refocused. "I'll lead the way," Yuui said. Despite his issue with names, he had no problem turning his back on either of them. He led them to a stairwell tucked away at the end of a narrow corridor and held the door open for them. Fai went up first, keeping his promise to stay in Syaoran's line of sight. Syaoran followed, knowing that if Fai's human look-alike tried to attack, he'd be able to retaliate or run. They ascended quickly, stepping out onto the windy rooftop. "No one will find us up here, and it's out of sight of all the nearby buildings, so . . ." Yuui turned, giving them both a wary look. "I'm not going to make a habit of this, but if there's no better way . . ." He rolled up his sleeve, leaving the pale skin bare.

Syaoran took a hesitant step forward, glancing up at Fai. The vampire nodded once and stepped back, leaning against the wall where the stairwell rose up above the roof.

It occurred to Syaoran that if Fai was going to attack him, it would be now, while he feeding. Everything else in the world would cease to matter, and all his concentration would be devoted to not killing his prey. If Fai attacked, he'd be vulnerable.

_Then again, if he wanted to kill me, he could do it any time. Especially now that I'm starving. Or does he think that because I got the upper hand in one fight that it's not worth the risk? He couldn't have forgiven me for Tokyo . . . _

_Either way, I'm not going to get another chance to feed on a willing donor. If I don't feed now, I might have to kill someone for my next meal. _Souma's face, pale in death, flashed in front of his eyes. _Even now, I can't be sure of my self-control. And if I hurt Yuui while I'm feeding off him . . . Well, that's just another reason for Fai to kill me._

Tremors ran down the length of his arms, making his hands shake. Syaoran did his best to steady them, then slowly unsheathed his claws. Yuui flinched and went pale.

"It's okay," Syaoran whispered, looking down at the grotesque growths on his fingertips. "I won't hurt you."

Yuui closed his eyes. "Just do it. Get it over with."

Syaoran glanced at Fai, still leaning against the wall. The magician wasn't looking at him.

_Just get it over with, _he thought, drawing one of his claws across Yuui's arm. A line of crimson rose up wherever his nails brushed the skin. When the smell hit him a moment later, a rush of desire overtook him. He swallowed thickly and brought his lips to the wound.

The taste exploded across his tongue, even sweeter than the smell. All at once, he was back in the jungle country, drinking the ambrosia that had been Souma's blood. His claws jutted out another inch, and a sudden pain in his gums alerted him to the sharpening of his teeth. Instinct urged him to bite. Syaoran fought the impulse, fought for control.

He felt Yuui's arm stiffen as he drew blood to the surface, and Syaoran realized this was probably not the most comfortable position for a human to be in. Trapped on a rooftop in this frigid weather with no guarantee of survival . . . Humans didn't handle the elements as well as he could. Yuui was probably freezing even as his body was drained of blood.

Gradually, the pit in his stomach began to shrink. His drinking slowed as he struggled to control himself. _I should stop, _he thought, swallowing another mouthful. _I'm strong enough. I must be, to have come this far . . ._ His mind darted to his time in Fei Wang Reed's magic prison, watching through the Other's eyes. Not once had his clone faltered when searching for Sakura's feathers. _I cannot falter either, if I want to defeat him._

Yuui's blood pressure dropped. Panic jolted through both of them at the development. _Souma's blood pressure dropped before she died. I have to stop, or I might . . . _His lips closed, cutting off the stream of blood. He released the man's arm. Yuui backed away, clutching the flesh above the wound, breathing hard.

In that moment, Syaoran didn't care that Fai could kill him, or that Seishirou might be waking up right now. All that mattered was that his victim wasn't dead.

"It's healing nicely," Fai commented, his voice perfectly level. Syaoran sank to the ground and closed his eyes, trying not to smell the faint scent of iron in the air.

Several minutes passed. Fai tended to his doppelganger, making sure the wound had closed, then sending him downstairs with a bundle of money and orders to eat something. When Yuui was out of sight, Fai walked up to him.

"How are you feeling?"

_Like a monster. Like I'm still not in control. _"Fine."

The magician took a step in his direction. Syaoran shrunk back. "It's okay," Fai said, lifting one hand in a peacemaking gesture. "Everything's okay."

_Okay? I'm a traitor and a monster. I left Sakura to help an enemy. My clone is hunting down her feathers in another world, and if I don't take my medicine, he can slip into my dreams and take control of my body. And Fai-san thinks I'm okay? _He chuckled darkly, the first attempt at laughter he'd made in years. "You're wrong. Nothing's okay."

The magician knelt down in front of him, his expression sympathetic. "You don't have to stay with Seishirou."

"Seishirou-san's not the problem."

"Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

Syaoran stood, relieved when none of the dizziness of an hour ago accompanied the movement. "Why don't I tell you?" he echoed. "It's because you'd never understand."

He walked past the magician and down the stairs. He didn't stop until he reached Adele's apartment.


	66. Speculated

Chapter Sixty-Six

"Doing your drills again?" Seishirou asked, peering into the backyard through the kitchen window.

Syaoran looked over, lowering his sword. "I have to practice the basics, so I can learn more complicated techniques later." _When I go back. If I go back._

"You were interested in the basics when I taught you, too."

He looked down at his feet. _No, that was the Other. _"The basics are important. If you don't learn them, you get sloppy."

His teacher watched him a moment more, then abandoned the window so he could slip out through the back door. "It's been almost three days since the fight. Is your wrist feeling better?"

Syaoran nodded. "Yes. It doesn't hurt at all anymore." Cautiously, he curled and uncurled his fingers, letting the muscles in his hand work. After he'd fed from Fai-san's look-alike, the pain in his wrist had all but disappeared. _Feeding must accelerate the healing process somehow. That, or whatever Miss Adele put in her tea truly works miracles. _

"I figured we'd stay here a few more days," Seishirou said. Syaoran sheathed his sword and sat down on one of Miss Adele's plastic lawn chairs to rest. "Fuuma seems to be responding well to this place. He's woken up twice in the time we've been here. I've even managed to get some real food into him."

"Okay."

"And as long as we're here, I might as well make good on my promise to teach you."

Syaoran felt the first stirring of enthusiasm he'd felt since before he'd fed. "What are we going to learn?"

"Magic. From what I've seen, your array of spells is fairly limited, yes?"

"I guess. I'm really only good at attack spells." _I can only destroy, only hurt others . . . _

"Right. And there are other kinds of spells that might prove valuable to you. For example, have you ever thought about healing magic?"

"A little." _It would've helped in Tokyo. I might've been able to help Sakura with her injuries after she came back._

"Or you could try to move objects with your mind, or even travel between dimensions without Yuuko-san's help."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"But it's the principle of the thing. What if you were in a position where you were unable to contact her, or you didn't have enough to pay? Can you imagine the freedom being able to traverse worlds would give you?"

He bit his lip. Freedom was something he'd seldom experienced. For years, he'd been sealed away in Reed's magic prison. Even after escaping, he'd been hemmed in by the walls of his room in Infinity, away from the piercing glares of his traveling companions, free only in the sense that he could walk away if it ever became too much to bear. The first taste of freedom he'd experienced was having the option to go with Seishirou, and even that had been partially motivated by a desire to escape the cold glances of his traveling companions.

"You don't have to learn all that right now, but it might be beneficial to see how far you can stretch your magic ability. And I can help you with that."

"What do I have to do?"

The dark-haired man smiled. "Follow me. We're going to need an open space."

"Okay." Syaoran followed Seishirou as he climbed over the fence, glancing around to make sure no one noticed the casual display of agility. It was just a small thing, leaping the fence, but the ease with which it was done could've given them away if anyone was paying too much attention. _Kurogane-san would've noticed something like that, _he thought. _But he's probably gone to the next dimension. If they haven't tracked me down by now . . ._ _Yes, they're almost certainly gone. _The thought made him feel cold. _I wonder what world they've fallen into now._

They walked quite a while, passing people dressed in colorful clothes and wearing shoes with Velcro straps instead of laces. Like everything else in the world, such garments gave away the childish nature of its people. "I don't think I've seen a single child since we've come here," he muttered. Seishirou looked at him, surprised by the observation. He went on, eyebrows knitting together in speculation. "It seems like there should be. If not coming into this country on the train, at least born here naturally. But all the people I've seen are older than I am."

His teacher considered that a moment. "Perhaps they're trapped in their own delusions."

_Every citizen of this country, entrenched in the wonders of this place, unable to move forward . . . _"It's a little sad. That these people chose to come here to live out a second childhood. What must've driven them to forego the whole process of growing up? Or, more importantly, why build a place like this? Surely, this whole world can't be like this. The human race would die out."

"Very possible," Seishirou said, deep in thought. "Miss Adele is the most competent person we've met in this world, and I suspect her emotional age is no more than seven or eight."

"It seems too . . . idealistic. I'm having trouble believing everything is as great with these people as they act."

"What do you mean?"

"When the Other was traveling with Father, he learned the history of many different countries," Syaoran explained, remembering the countless history books the Other had read when traveling with Fujitaka-san. "One of the things that surprised the Other most was how, in certain totalitarian regimes, people didn't rebel. When reading about the brutal things these dictators sometimes did to their people, one wonders why they don't simply overthrow their leader and make way for a better country. But the simple fact is that most people in such dictatorships are so thoroughly deceived into believing they live in the best country in the world that, in spite of brutal treatment, the idea of rebellion never occurs to them. That was how oppressive these governments were. They could control the thoughts and feelings of their people.

"I wonder if this isn't the same kind of thing," he went on. "Wouldn't that be the perfect plan? Keep all these people in the dark, letting them live in their imaginary happiness, never giving them the opportunity to grow or think for themselves . . . Children don't understand how brutal the world can be—a world that shapes adults into children would be the ideal place to run such a government."

"You learned about all this by reading history books?" Seishirou asked.

"Some of it is speculation," he admitted. "But I've been uneasy about this world since we arrived here. There's something _wrong _with a world full of adults who refuse to grow up." He glanced up, waiting for his mentor to tell him his speculation was senseless. But Seishirou's face was, for once, serious.

"So you thought so, too, huh." The man lifted one hand to his chin in thought.

Syaoran's volume dropped. "What if this world is a setup? It's happened before, I'm sure of it. The Other once landed in a jungle world where the only intelligent creatures were furry rabbits. _He _didn't think anything of it, but I wondered how, in such a warm environment, they'd evolved to have heavy fur coats. It didn't make sense. But the only thing I could think of what that someone was interfering with the natural order of things."

"Why would anyone be setting you up, though?"

He watched the lines in the sidewalk go by as they walked. "I don't know," he finally said. He suspected it was Fei Wang Reed, meddling with the intended order of things, but explaining everything to Seishirou would be tedious, and not especially helpful. _I'm on my own this time, _he thought. _I've always been on my own, and I probably always will be._

"Even if this world is a setup, there's no harm in doing a little training before we go."

Syaoran glanced around, remembering their purpose here. They were wandering up the grassy hill to the park they'd fought at only days ago. "We're practicing _here_?" he asked.

"It's the nearest open space. And it's almost empty."

They crested the hill, and Syaoran realized his teacher was right. The park was totally empty except for one person: the Other.


	67. Sickened

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Syaoran's pulse raced in his ears, muffling all other sounds. His breathing ceased, as if his lungs had imploded, and after a few seconds without oxygen, his vision danced with grey dots.

The Other looked at him with cold, mismatched eyes. _So this world _was _a setup, _he thought, cursing himself for not realizing sooner, for not realizing Fei Wang Reed had a purpose in meddling with this world. _So stupid. I should've known better. _

Seishirou glanced at him, something like surprise flitting across his face. Syaoran's eyes flashed to his mentor, looking for some sign that they were still on the same side. Even if he had trained the Other in Clow, surely Seishirou wouldn't choose to abandon him now. Surely.

When he looked back, the Other was gone.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Seishirou said with a light laugh.

Syaoran stared at him, his mouth hanging open. _Didn't he see? He must've seen. He's just as observant as I am, there's no way he couldn't have seen. So why is he acting like he didn't? _Panic fluttered in his stomach, contorting it into odd formations. Perhaps Seishirou's loyalties were not as well defined as he claimed. Syaoran knew the older man ranked Fuuma's life above both of theirs, but until now, he hadn't considered the possibility that the Other was still important to him. _Stupid. I'm so stupid. Of course Seishirou would place the Other above me, even if he is a monster._

"Little Wolf?" The man's voice shifted from amusement to concern. "Are you all right?"

"I . . ." _Why would he ask that? He must realize how seeing the Other would affect me. Unless he really didn't see . . . But we were facing the same way. There's nothing much to look at in this park, except for the birds. He should have seen, and reacted, before I did. _

_Unless the Other wasn't really there. _The thought chilled him, and he repressed a shudder. _If it was all in my head, Seishirou wouldn't have seen him. But how could it be? I'm not sick or tired or starving. My sleeping pills haven't given me any hallucinations so far . . . Is it possible the Other's graduated beyond my dreams now? That he's starting to leak into my daytime thoughts? _His heart hammered against his ribs, audible even among the soft breeze.

"What's wrong?" Seishirou demanded.

Syaoran looked down. _If I _am _hallucinating . . . He'll think I'm crazy, or paranoid. He'll think I'm a danger to Fuuma-san. What if he leaves me here? I have no way to travel through dimensions on my own. _

_And then I'll be alone. _"It's nothing," he whispered. "Just a little flashback from the fight, that's all."

His mentor looked at him for a long moment, measuring his sincerity. He still didn't look entirely convinced when he turned his attention back to the rolling hills. "We'll start with your usual magic and work from there," he decided, walking across the field. After a brief hesitation, Syaoran followed.

They worked well into the night, starting with the spells Syaoran knew, then adapting them to new situations. Seishirou presented him with scenarios such as multiple opponents, explosives under the ground, and nonhuman opponents. Despite the lack of actual enemies or equipment, Syaoran found his skills improving. When his mentor announced an end for the day, Syaoran's range had improved by a good ten meters, and his control was more precise. He could vary the amount of force in each attack with a measure of control he'd barely grasped before.

"Tomorrow, we'll work on sword techniques," Seishirou said. "If it's going to be your primary weapon, you'd best know how to use it."

"Right." Syaoran bowed deeply, a silent gesture of respect and gratitude. Seishirou tousled his hair.

"Don't be so polite. Courtesy adds years to your age."

_It's not like I'm aging the same way I used to, anyway, _he thought, looking at the ground.

"Smile, Syaoran. It's good for your health."

_Don't disappoint him. _Syaoran forced his lips into a brittle smile. His teacher returned the expression, his smile a model of joy and enthusiasm. "All right, Little Wolf. Let's go home."

_Home, _Syaoran thought longingly. But it wasn't the bedroom Miss Adele had given him, or the apartment in Avantine, that he yearned for. It was the little clay house surrounded by sand dunes—the house that sat in the shadow of Clow Castle, the house where Fujitaka-san had raised the Other as his own, the house Sakura had visited almost every day. _That is my home. No matter where I go, that will be the one place I can always return to. _

They walked back to Miss Adele's house in companionable silence. Syaoran was so absorbed in the yearning that accompanied his daydreams that he didn't recognize the scent that saturated the air until Seishirou thrust an arm out in front of him.

"What is it?" he asked, keeping his voice low as his eyes scanned the horizon for threats.

"Can you smell that?"

Syaoran inhaled through his nose. The air smelled like iron. "Is that—"

"Breathe through your mouth and follow me. Something's happened." Seishirou ran toward Miss Adele's house, claws sprouting from his fingertips. Stomach churning, Syaoran followed. The smell choked him, like a noose wrapping around his windpipe. Breathing grew difficult, and the metallic scent overpowered every other smell. Even the garden, overflowing with flowers and herbs for tea, couldn't abolish the macabre scent.

Seishirou opened the back door, almost ripping it off its hinges. He darted inside, letting the flimsy door hang open. A cloud of the metallic smell assaulted Syaoran's nostrils, so overpowering that it turned his stomach instead of making it feel hollow. As he darted into the house—into the battlefield—he almost vomited where he stood.

Four crimson walls stretched out around him. Behind the sea of red, the original colors showed through. _It's like a toddler tried to repaint, _Syaoran thought distantly, eyes locked on the spatter patterns. He saw a scarlet seahorse rise above the waves, a wolf show its glistening red teeth, a dragon lift its head and spit crimson fire into the air . . . The images danced on the wall, moving sinuously as he stared, taking on new forms.

Footsteps alerted him to Seishirou's movements. The dark-haired man had paused in the living room, taking in the sight just as he was now, then started up the stairs. _Fuuma. He must be checking on Fuuma._

Syaoran took a clumsy step into the living room, almost slipping on a slick patch of red paint. _No, not paint, that's blood . . . _The next step came easier, and by the third, his stride had steadied somewhat. Without really thinking about it, he followed the largest patches of crimson. The edges of his vision seemed to shimmer slightly, as if he was trying to recall a dream.

_Let it be a dream. Let me wake up in Infinity and walk out into the living room for breakfast. Please, let it all be a dream._

Somehow, the smell got stronger as he passed through the house. The bloodstains, brown where they'd sunk into the carpet and dried, led to the kitchen. Syaoran kept moving, wondering why there was no smell of baking bread or cookies or cake. Miss Adele always seemed to be baking something. _I should be able to smell that over the blood, _he thought distantly._ But I can't. _

Another step. His foot came down on a stuffed animal, which promptly started singing. He flinched at the cheerful sound, eyes flashing down to look at the toy that had produced it: a white teddy bear splattered with red. Suddenly, everything around him seemed to shift. The surreal quality vanished, and everything around him came into focus, too vivid. He coughed as the stench of iron hit him anew, and staggered into the kitchen, unable to look at the blood-spattered toys even a moment longer. He stared at the floor, watching it spin beneath him as he made his way into the kitchen.

Something was dripping onto the floor.

He heard the soft _drip _before he saw its source. For one wild moment, he thought it was the faucet, dripping because it hadn't been completely shut off. Reality intruded on the moment, wrapping its dark tendrils around Syaoran's lungs. Shivering, he lifted his face to look at the source of the dripping sound, and saw Miss Adele hanging by her wrists from a hook on the ceiling, rivers of blood pouring down from her throat.


	68. Beheaded

Chapter Sixty-Eight

It was her first day of training since her leg brace had shattered in Cirrus, and she was miserable.

"Watch your stance," Kurogane reminded her. The words were just another variation on the reminders he'd been giving her all day. Apparently, learning one stance wasn't enough to fight. _He said this would be a big commitment, but I didn't think it would be so painful. _She twisted her foot so it was angled in the correct direction, biting her lip to keep her mind off the pain. "Too close," the ninja called, watching her from his position across the field. Sakura winced and widened her stance. "_Now _strike."

She stepped forward, coming down on her good leg and thrusting her sword into an imaginary enemy.

"From the left!" Kurogane yelled. Sakura brought the cheap sword around, imagining the blade was cutting through flesh and bone instead of air. Before her sword came to a stop, Kurogane called out again. "Behind you!"

She turned again, not realizing until she was halfway through the spin that she was supposed to shift her stance. Her legs twisted beneath her at an unnatural angle, her momentum carrying her forward. Her sword pierced the ground, sliding six inches into the dirt before her face hit the dirt. The impact knocked her grip loose, but instead of having her hand come down on the grass as it was supposed to, the skin between her thumb and index finger parted against the sharp edge of her sword. Blood splattered across the grass.

"Shit," Kurogane hissed. Sakura heard his approaching footsteps.

She pulled her hand away from the sword, shocked at the stinging pain in her hand. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Stay still. Let me see your hand." The ninja's warm hand swallowed hers up, and she rested her forehead against the ground, hiding her tears. "Shit . . . C'mon, this'll need stitches."

_Stitches? _she thought, a lump rising in her throat. She'd never had stitches before, and the mental image of having someone sewing her hand shut made her want to retch.

"Take this," the ninja said, handing her a slippery piece of fabric. "Clamp it over your hand; it'll slow the bleeding."

She did as he asked, wrapping the black cloth around the wound and pressing down on it. Kurogane picked up her sword and stowed it next to Souhi's sheath. "The hospital's this way."

Sakura looked down at the slippery fabric again. Some part of her recognized the significance of the cloth, but it wasn't until they were halfway to the hospital that she realized what it was. "This is the blindfold you gave Syaoran in Infinity."

The ninja threw her a look of surprise, then ducked to avoid once of the exhaust vents as it spewed out a puff of steam. Everything in this country ran on steam power. The technology here was greater than it was in Clow, but the exhaust vents and leaky pipes meant that water vapor could shoot out from a building at any moment. "Yeah, what of it?" Kurogane asked, sounding irritated.

"It's just . . ." _Just what? Just because Syaoran touched it, it's somehow important? _Her eyes drifted down to the cement squares of the sidewalk. "Nothing."

"Spit it out. What is it?"

"Syaoran-kun . . . didn't have much, when he joined us in Tokyo. What little he did have was from his time as prisoner. So to have something like this—something I know he touched and used for training—is sort of surreal."

The ninja looked at her, then away. He didn't seem inclined to say anything.

"Do you think we'll ever see Syaoran-kun again?" Sakura asked, as they reached the hospital parking lot.

Kurogane's shoulders stiffened. "How the hell should I know?"

Sakura winced. "When he shot that lightning bolt in Cirrus, I thought he meant to kill me. But that can't possibly be true, otherwise he would've hit his mark. Right? He wasn't aiming for _me_, he was trying to get me out of harm's way."

They'd reached the hospital doors. Kurogane held the glass door open for her, his expression unreadable. "The kid knows what he's doing, even if we don't. However it ends up, that'll be the way it goes."

"Do you think . . . that he might come back?"

Something flickered across the ninja's face, and for just a moment, Sakura glimpsed genuine sorrow in his red eyes. He looked down. "I hope so."

* * *

><p>Syaoran wondered how long they'd tortured Miss Adele before they'd finally slit her throat. From the cuts carved into her body, it had been quite a while.<p>

He wasn't craving blood now. The sheer scale of the damage nauseated him, and any appetizing scent the blood had once exuded was lost beneath the faint smell of decay. Part of him wondered how he recognized the stench of death even in this early stage. Perhaps the recognition was instinctive, like the scent of smoke.

Syaoran took a cautious step forward, sidestepping a pool of red. Some distant part of his brain was counting the lacerations on Miss Adele's body: _one, two, three, four . . . _Another part was busy identifying the nature of the damage. None of the cuts were more than half an inch deep. Not deep enough to hit any major arteries. No, these cuts had been made for the express purpose of torturing Miss Adele.

_But why? _he wondered. _She's innocent. _

_. . . twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty . . . _

_Unless this was done to send a message, _he reasoned, swallowing thickly. _But to who? Me? Or Seishirou? Fei Wang Reed wouldn't be so blunt to send this, but as far as I know, Seishirou's only enemies are Kamui and Subaru. They wouldn't be so brutal, would they? Who would've been sadistic enough to do something like this?_

_. . . forty-one, forty-two, forty-three . . . _

Syaoran shivered. There was only one person he knew who was that sadistic. _I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the Other at the park, but maybe that was part of the message. Maybe he's taunting me, telling me he can get inside my head whenever he wants. _He bit his lip, his gaze crawling from the lacerations on Miss Adele's body to the rope tied around her wrists. Her torturer—it was easier if he didn't attach the Other's face to this abomination—had hung her from a heavy metal hook in the ceiling, probably intended to hold up some hanging plant. For how long, Syaoran could only guess, but one thing was clear: that detail was just as much a part of the display as the cuts.

_. . . fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five . . . _

_Is he saying this is what will happen to me? Or is he saying this is what he can do to the others? _An image of Sakura, strung up and cut open, flashed in front of his eyes, and he recoiled from the body, stomach heaving. His legs carried him a few feet before he crashed to his knees, retching up whatever was in his stomach. His aversion to seeing Sakura in pain was so ingrained in his mind that the mere thought of it stole his self-control.

_I can't be here, _he thought wildly. Suddenly, he was running, sprinting away from the corpse, away from the stench of iron. He looked back only once, to finish his tally of the cuts.

_. . . Sixty-seven. _

His legs crashed into the couch and he toppled forward, landing on the soft cushions. A warm dampness brushed against his face, and he flinched back, hand flying to his cheek. It came away sticky with blood.

If a crash from upstairs hadn't disrupted his panic, he might've fled the house right then. Instead, he raced up the stairs, toward the sound. If the Other was still here, he had to stop him. _Before he hurts someone I care about. _

Supernatural speed came in handy sometimes. Before the sound abated, Syaoran reached the second floor. He ran down the hallway, wincing when he saw Seishirou slam into one of Miss Adele's bookshelves and knock it over, children's books tumbling all over the floor. His mentor held his sword high in the air, bringing it down to deflect another blade. Syaoran's eyes zeroed in on the hilt of the sword, trying to identify any familiar sigil. He recognized the yellow bat on a black background. _So it was Reed, _he thought, eyebrows slanting down.

The man with the sword came around the corner, trying to get past Seishirou's guard. Syaoran recognized the man's mask. _Those are the same soldiers Fei Wang Reed sent to Clow, before Sakura lost her feathers._

Seishirou parried another blow, casting a quick glance back in his direction. His face was unusually serious.

The faceless man swung the bat-sword, aiming for Seishirou's ribs. Syaoran watched, transfixed by the rush of activity, as his mentor moved in for a counterattack. The black blade of his sword streaked through the air, so fast that Syaoran heard the sound of the wind being sliced apart. The sword cleaved through the flesh and bone of the masked man's shoulder, ripping his arm off and spurting blood everywhere. As Syaoran's fascination turned to horror, Seishirou brought the blade up and took the man's head off.


	69. Scorned

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Syaoran watched the head tumble to the ground, his eyes near-perfect circles. Seishirou half-turned, wincing when he absorbed the boy's expression, then turned his head back to scan the corridor for any other intruders. The masked man—Fei Wang Reed's soldier, he knew from years of research—had rushed him alone, after his identically-dressed comrades had fallen. Clusters of bodies littered the floor, throats glistening red where Seishirou had cut them.

Fuuma snored softly in the other room, his unnatural sleep undisturbed by the chaos. Seishirou could hear his heartbeat, soft and steady despite the all-consuming illness eating away at his insides. The carnage hadn't reached his bedroom. _They weren't targeting Fuuma, at least. But it doesn't make sense for them to kill the homeowner. _He'd made some assumptions when he'd first walked in, based on the volume and scent of decay. Miss Adele was slowly rotting somewhere downstairs, having endured whatever Reed's soldiers had done to her. Seishirou prayed for her sake it had been brief.

He returned his attention to the Little Wolf. The boy's face was deathly pale, and his eyes had gone from wide circles to being completely closed. His mouth hung open about an inch, his breath slipping out from the narrow slit. Smeared across his right cheek was a splotch of blood, probably picked up from the carnage downstairs. Syaoran either didn't know it was there, or was too far gone to care.

Seishirou took a step in the boy's direction, letting his sword slip back inside his body. As his foot hit the ground, the boy's eyes flashed open. Syaoran retreated three steps, leaning heavily against the wall. His hand was bloody, too. The red fingers trembled for a moment before closing up in a fist. The tremors moved up his arm, then took hold of his whole body. His breathing grew loud and shaky.

"Calm down now," Seishirou said evenly, lifting his hand like he might do to show someone he wasn't going to harm them. Syaoran's muscles tightened, and he edged back another half a step.

"No closer," he whispered, closing his eyes again.

Seishirou seldom allowed the words of others to affect him. After so many years of traveling, he'd accepted that the vast majority of people were not especially smart, and were thus prone to making judgments based on first impressions. When he'd visited Clow, the other Syaoran had watched him take down three men with ease without assuming he was a threat. That child had, even at such a young age, known enough of the world to withhold such base judgments. This Syaoran had been the same. But Seishirou could see now that this boy's perceptions had changed. In watching him kill a man, whatever fragile trust he'd cultivated in the boy had shattered.

"Syaoran."

"Don't."

The word meant a lot of things: rejection, fear, apprehension . . . perhaps even resentment, for the things he'd witnessed this evening. It cut Seishirou deeper than he'd expected. "Syaoran-kun."

The boy flinched and slid back another step, almost at the top of the stairs now. His eyelids squeezed tighter, as if he could drive the image out of his mind. _The image of me taking someone's head off. Of course. Why wouldn't he flinch from that? _"Is that the first time you've ever watched somebody die?" he asked.

The boy hung his head and mumbled an answer. Seishirou was barely able to decipher the words. "No. Just the first time I've watched someone I know kill someone else."

Seishirou nodded in understanding, though the boy couldn't see the movement with his eyes closed. Syaoran had shut him out. "That can be very traumatic," Seishirou agreed, trying to coax the boy into opening up again. It had taken so long for him to come around in Infinity—the days had quite literally seemed to stretch out forever in that country. If he lost the boy's loyalty now, Fuuma stood no chance. "It'll be okay."

Syaoran's spine went rigid, and his eyes opened. Fury was written bold across his face. "No. It won't. You just . . ." He faltered, then regained his voice. "What happened here . . . The fact that we didn't leave Cirrus the moment we found one of Sakura's feathers . . . Our journey can't continue like this!"

"What do you mean?" He heard the edge of anger in his voice and fought to rein it in. The boy couldn't mean to leave now, when Fuuma was still at risk.

"Everywhere I go, there is disaster," Syaoran said. "The longer I stay in one place, the worse things get. This world. Tokyo. _Clow_." His voice cracked on the last, and Seishirou wondered how exactly the boy had destroyed Clow Country. The Little Wolf went on. "My existence is like a butterfly of doom. No matter what, I can't stop destroying things. Sometimes, I think it would've been better if I'd never left my home dimension."

"You shouldn't say things like that."

"I always thought," Syaoran said, voice dropping to a whisper. "I was doing the right thing. Searching for Sakura's feathers even though she treated me like a ghost. Sparing Fai, when it would've made more sense to finish him off. Leaving them for _you_."

He flinched.

"I always thought I was doing the right thing. But it doesn't matter what I do. It doesn't matter what choices I make. I will always draw disaster, wherever I go, and there's nothing I can do to stop it." He turned for the stairs, his hand dragging against the wall until it encountered the banister.

"Little Wolf, stop."

"Don't call me that."

"You can't just leave!"

The Little Wolf let out a sharp laugh—"No. I can't. That's the problem," he said—and disappeared down the steps.

* * *

><p>Syaoran walked back to the park, not knowing where else to go. The burnt patch of grass where his spell had hit still scarred the land, and he could see the spot where he'd spared Fai's life not half a minute later. A few slices in the dirt marked the place where Kurogane and Seishirou had fought.<p>

Syaoran hadn't known what he'd expected to find here—perhaps some semblance of life in a place where his previous companions had tread, or maybe a glimmer of hope that they might take him back, if he begged their forgiveness. When he knelt down beside the burnt grass, however, all he found was grief. Grief for the chance he'd missed, only a few days ago, to return to them. Shame for bringing his enemy to an innocent. Nausea at the thought of that red-spattered house.

But above all, there was a certain sense of betrayal in what he'd witnessed tonight. The logical part of him acknowledged that letting their enemies live would only bring them hardship, but there was another part, already broken and bleeding from the sight of Miss Adele's tortured corpse, that had collapsed the moment Seishirou had separated that faceless man's head from his body. It had been done almost casually, with an economy of movement.

Syaoran had seen people die. In Shura, when the Other had been caught up in the war between the Yasha and Ashura clans and watched people get cut in half. In Tokyo, when the Other had stumbled upon a pile of corpses at the entrance of the tower. Syaoran also knew that people he'd grown close to had killed before. Both Kurogane-san and Seishirou had openly admitted to killing people. But evidently, watching someone, even an enemy, die at the hands of someone you trusted was a much more earth-shattering experience than simply hearing about it.

"I've always believed that if you can spare your enemy, you should," he whispered to himself, brushing his fingertips across the blackened blades of grass. His thoughts flashed to his father—Fujitaka, the only part of the Other's life that Syaoran acknowledged as belonging to both of them. _He would've said that killing another person because they were in your way was unjust. Even in self-defense, he scorned the thought of murder. _His fingers tightened around the grass, ripping it out by the roots. _Have his principles set themselves so deeply inside me that I can't bear to watch such a thing? Isn't that what all this training is for—to kill, in the event I'm ever forced to? Have I been lying to myself about why I wanted to be strong?_

He took a deep breath, looking away from the singed grass—just another thing he'd destroyed—and over to the place where Sakura had stood before he'd loosed the spell. He crawled over to that spot, searching for some sign that she wasn't lost to him.

He found it in a half-inch long metal screw.

At first, he didn't recognize the little piece of steel. It was such a common object, even here in this childproofed world. But as the images from the fight came back to him, the little screw took on great significance. He remembered seeing Sakura's leg brace fall apart as she skidded to a stop, remembered the little metal bits flying apart and scattering in the grass _right here. _

He picked up the little bolt and cradled it in his hands. After a moment, he closed his palms around the smooth metal and brought them to his chest. "Thank you," he whispered, lifting his head to the sky. "Thank you."


	70. Hallucinated

Chapter Seventy

Syaoran held the metal bolt until it began to snow.

At first, he didn't recognize the frozen puffs coming down from the sky. With his eyes closed and his skin less sensitive to temperature, he spent several minutes believing the light puffs were nothing more than the breeze stirring the fine hair on his skin. When he finally did open his eyes, he was surprised to see a thin layer of fog rising from his lips as he exhaled.

He sat up, brushing the snowflakes from his jacket sleeve with his free hand. The other remained tightly closed around the metal screw. After many minutes in his hands, the bolt was warm. _Just like Sakura_, he thought, unfurling his fingers to examine the bolt. The smooth metal seemed so separate from the girl who had possessed it that, at first glance, there seemed to be no relation between the two. But he could smell the faint trace of her scent, a fragrance somewhere between the cherry blossoms for which she was named, and the sunlight that danced in her hair.

_There may come a day when I can return this to her_, he thought, closing his hand again. The metal had cooled in the open air. _And by then, I'll be done with Seishirou. _

He stood, pocketing the bolt. It took him a moment to realize he had nowhere left to go. Seishirou would likely still be cleaning up the bodies, if he hadn't moved locations. There was also the chance that he was out there looking for him now, but Syaoran doubted that. If Seishirou needed to find him, it wouldn't take long.

_No, I have nowhere I need to be_, Syaoran thought, tilting his head up toward the occluded sky. "Maybe the train station," he mused, watching the clouds churn above him.

Something flickered in the lower corner of his vision. He glanced down, then recoiled.

The Other stood across the park from him. From this distance, a human would've been unable to distinguish between the colors of his eyes. But Syaoran could.

Adrenaline flooded his veins, and he summoned his sword. It appeared in a puff of fire, a familiar weight in his hands.

His clone brought his own sword out. Not Hien—Syaoran had watched that blade shatter in one of his nightmares—but a similar blade. He felt the unique hum of energy coming off the weapon, mixing with Fai's stolen magic.

_Is this world some sort of meeting place for travelers? Is that what Reed was trying to set up?_

The Other raised his new sword so the tip pointed up to the sky. Syaoran felt a shift in the magic and braced himself for whatever his clone was planning. Blue sparks spider-webbed out from the blade, cloaking the Other in lightning. A moment later, a bolt tore through the clearing.

_That's my spell_, Syaoran thought, flinging himself to the ground. The grass was slick with frost, but that didn't stop it from going up in flames when the lightning hit it. The bolt carved a crispy path into the hillside, inches from his face. Syaoran rolled to his feet, lifting his sword for a counterattack. Electricity crackled around the blade, then exploded in the Other's direction.

By the time the bolt reached the place where his clone had been standing, he was gone.

Syaoran turned in a circle, eyes flashing across every inch of the small park. _Where did he go? _he wondered, his pulse pounding in his ears. When he saw no sign of the Other, he closed his eyes and tried to sense him, as he'd done in Outo and Infinity.

There was no one there.

At first, he couldn't believe it. Even a vampire couldn't flee that fast, and he would've seen if the Other had changed dimensions. It wasn't until he remembered the incident this morning that he realized why.

_He was never really here. It was just another hallucination. _He turned toward the patch of grass the Other's spell had annihilated. Blades of grass, still frosted, reached for the occluded sky. _It's not burnt at all. It's all in my head. He's in my head._

Syaoran collapsed, hitting the cold ground with a thud. His arms wrapped around his ribs, constricting his lungs as they rapidly inflated and deflated. "No," he whispered. _I can't let him get to me. It's a trick, that's all. _

He got back to his feet. His knees trembled, and he fell again. _I'm losing it. I'm really losing it._

The wind wailed in the hills around him. A shiver ran down his back. It sounded as if the wind was warning him to abandon this place before another hallucination drove him to do irreparable damage.

Ultimately, there was still only one person he could go to.

* * *

><p>Seishirou threw a final shovelful of dirt on top of the body and patted it down.<p>

The damage had been more extensive than he'd first assumed. Though he'd been able to detect the smell of Miss Adele's corpse before he'd walked through the door, he'd assumed she'd been killed only because she'd gotten in the way of their enemy. The truth—that Fei Wang Reed's soldiers had spent the better part of the afternoon cutting her up before finally killing her—was much more grisly than his initial assumption.

_Is this message meant for me, or for Syaoran? _he wondered, leaning the shovel against the wall and walking into the house. There was little point in tending to the rest of the bodies. They were enemies, and he planned to leave this world as soon as the Little Wolf returned to him. _Whenever that might be_, he thought, heading upstairs. With so many dead, the scent of rot was growing stronger. _I should take Fuuma and leave this place. I can find a replacement for Syaoran on the way. _

He sighed, resting a hand on his brother's forehead. "Fuuma, wake up."

The ill man didn't stir. Seishirou waited, letting his brother's forehead warm under his fingertips. He nudged the man's shoulder. "Fuuma, come on. We need to get to the next world."

Still no response.

Seishirou exhaled and went downstairs again, stepping over a body on the way. He washed his hands in the kitchen sink, scrubbing until his fingers, palms, and wrists were raw, then sidestepped a puddle of blood to get to the refrigerator. He raided it for things his brother might eat, ignoring some of the less nutritious garbage in favor of the more natural cheeses and fruits. Arms overflowing with edible things, he went back upstairs and knelt down beside Fuuma's bed. "It's time to eat," he said, hoping to coax a response out of the brunette.

Fuuma still didn't stir.

"You're making this really difficult, you know," Seishirou told him, leaning back and crossing his legs. He snatched an orange from the pile and pierced it with a sharpened claw. Translucent juice flowed out from the hole. The citrus scent dispersed through the room, covering up the smell of dead bodies. "Come on now. Wake up, just for a little while."

His brother remained inert before him. Seishirou lifted the orange and drizzled the juice between Fuuma's lips. The unconscious man swallowed automatically.

"I suppose it's nothing too surprising," Seishirou murmured. "After all, you're on the edge of death already. If you weren't, we wouldn't be here.

"The witch said there was no such thing as coincidence, only Hitsuzen. But which part of this is Hitsuzen? You getting sick, or me finding you before you died? I don't have an answer. But whatever happens, I won't outlive you by long. Or at all, if this plan works out." He brushed Fuuma's hair aside.

The clock on the wall _ticked_.

Fuuma took a shallow breath.

The smell of death seeped through the smell of oranges.

Seishirou's head turned toward the sound of footsteps crushing fresh snow, and he rose from Fuuma's bedside to see who was coming. As he brushed the curtains out of the way, he realized Syaoran had returned. He hurried downstairs, not wanting to force the boy to see the bodies again after everything that had happened. He met the Little Wolf at the door.

"Are you all right?"

The brunette looked at him, his expression haunted. The boy's pupils were dilated well past their usual level, and his skin was several shades paler than normal.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Seishirou said. "That was—"

Syaoran raised a hand to stop him. The fear went out of his expression. In its place was a steely resolve. He asked only one question. "Will you teach me how to shield my thoughts?"


	71. Learned

Chapter Seventy-One

"Why would you want to learn that, Syaoran?"

His face emptied of emotion as he answered. "My clone is getting more powerful with each feather he finds. If I don't find a better way to defend myself against his attacks, physical and mental, I won't be able to fight him."

"And it's urgent now because . . . ?"

_Because if I don't fight back now, I might not be able to fight back later. _He blinked slowly, trying to form a reply that wouldn't require him to admit his hallucinations. "In Infinity, you said you'd teach me what I needed to survive. In Avantine, you asked me what I wanted to learn, and you taught me. I know I have no right to ask for this without an explanation, but I need to be able to protect my mind."

Seishirou studied his face, unsmiling. After several seconds, he nodded. "There are two types of mental shields: one to keep your thoughts hidden from those who might see them, and one to defend against psychic assaults such as possession, compulsion, and hypnosis. Both types are similar in execution, but have slightly different effects. Sit down."

Syaoran retreated to one of the chairs at the table, never taking his eyes off his teacher. Seishirou sat across from him, leaning forward with his elbows on the table as he explained.

"The first type is less physically exhausting than the second, but it only protects you from threats outside your mind. Since you're asking about this right _now_, I'm assuming you need a more powerful spell than that."

Syaoran considered his reply, not sure how much his teacher would discern of his problems if he answered truthfully. _There's no sense in wasting time with a lower level spell if the Other is already in my head. _"That's true."

Seishirou smirked at his careful agreement. "Right. So you'll need the second spell. That requires more base magic power, and greater focus, especially given that you'll be under attack when you use it. The first step is to expel the unwanted presence from your mind. Now, you can imagine this as a sort of mental explosion. Gather up whatever energy you can spare and concentrate it into one point inside your mind. That will be the epicenter of the explosion."

Syaoran nodded. Concentrating energy into one point was one of the most basic principles of magic. Without such concentration, the effect would be so stretched out as to make casting a spell impossible.

"From that point, you push outward in every direction, sweeping your body and the surrounding area for hostile presences. That ninja you were traveling with—"

Syaoran looked up sharply, shocked Seishirou would bring up Kurogane-san at all.

"—taught you how to sense the aura of living things with your eyes closed, yes?"

"Kurogane-san taught me a lot of things," he said, watching for his teacher's reaction to the name. With his sharpened sight, he noticed a tightening in the other man's shoulders.

"Of course," Seishirou said swiftly. "But for this exercise, sensing enemies is the most vital step."

"Right."

"So you push the wave of energy out, sensing for enemies and banishing them from your mind wherever you find them. This will temporarily expel them from your thoughts and leave you clearheaded enough for the second step." Seishirou paused. "Which is similar to the simple thought-shielding spell I mentioned earlier."

Syaoran nodded.

"How to explain . . . Hmm." Seishirou stood, staring at the sky. He sighed. "Think of a brick wall, wrapped around your thoughts."

Syaoran called the appropriate image to his mind, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Now add magic to the wall, to make it tangible."

He imagined a thin film of magic running over the brick, solidifying it in a way a plain structure couldn't.

"You've got it?"

"I think so."

There was a pause. Syaoran felt a ripple at the edge of his shield. The wall stiffened, turning almost solid. At another point in the shield, he felt a flutter of movement. _Another mind? _he wondered, the muscles in his back going rigid.

Seishirou chuckled softly. He opened his eyes to see the dark-haired man grinning. "You truly are a remarkable student, Little Wolf."

He bristled at the nickname. Last time Seishirou had called him that, he'd just finished beheading someone.

"Oh, there it goes. Spoke too soon, I guess." Seishirou smiled knowingly. "Your shield is only effective for however long you can focus."

_Only that long? _Syaoran thought, body stiffening with the realization. _Does that mean I'll be vulnerable whenever I'm not thinking about it? _

"That's what it means," Seishirou said. Startled by the suddenness of the answer, Syaoran brought his shield back up. It hummed with energy, more powerful than before.

"You can read minds?" he asked, instead of accusing Seishirou of invading his thoughts.

"With some effort. Magic is a wonderful tool, if you know how to control it."

Syaoran looked down at his feet. "I would appreciate it if you didn't do that again."

His teacher arched one black eyebrow. "As you wish. But you're never going to get any practice if you don't feel threatened."

"All the same, my thoughts are my own." _M__ost of them. _He bit his lip, wondering how much influence the Other had over him. _I'm going to have to keep my mind guarded as often as I can. The more I let him in, the more likely he is to take control and make me do something drastic._

"Keep practicing that. The more you work on it, the easier it will be to maintain."

"Okay."

"Anything else you want to work on before we switch dimensions?"

_Switch dimensions? Right now? _He blinked. _Well of course we should do that. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can get back to Sakura. _"No," he said quickly. "That's all I wanted to know."

Seishirou smiled. "Great. I'll go get Fuuma, and then we'll be on our way."

* * *

><p>Gradually, Sakura began to notice an improvement in her sword practice.<p>

At first, the minuscule improvements went unnoticed. The pain that sprung up in her leg after hours of daily practice pushed out most other thoughts, and by the time she was done, she seldom had the energy to reflect on her training.

Her routine was rigid, just as Syaoran's had been. She woke up in the morning, sat down for a breakfast—usually something protein-filled, like eggs, that would get her through the day. After that, she headed out to wherever they were training. Kurogane would teach her for about an hour, then give her a task to develop some facet of her skills. If it was intense or physically threatening, he stayed to make sure she didn't hurt herself. If it wasn't, he told her to work on it until she'd mastered it, or until the sun went down.

Most of the time, she worked until nightfall.

When she was done, she returned to the apartment, ate a hearty dinner, then passed out wherever she came to rest. Either Fai or Kurogane brought her to her bed whenever she fell asleep elsewhere. Then she woke up at daybreak to repeat the cycle.

It was almost a month after she'd seen Syaoran in Cirrus that Sakura realized she didn't have to think about her stances anymore when she moved.

The revelation came almost out of nowhere. Kurogane had left her to her drills hours ago, and she'd been working on them ever since. The deep ache in her leg hadn't numbed, merely drifted to the back of her mind. The pain wasn't relevant to her training, and once she'd accepted that the pain would go on, she stopped dwelling on it. The shift in her attention prompted her to notice other things about her situation.

_My feet are parallel, _she thought, looking down at her toes with more fascination than ever before. _It's the perfect front stance. _

Her lips stretched into a smile, and she moved to the next part of the drill. Her legs moved automatically into a back stance as she pretended to strike her enemy's heart. Even before she looked down, she knew she was in the correct stance.

_Syaoran would be so happy for me, _she thought. As she realized what had just passed through her mind, she flinched. Both Syaorans were lost to her now, wandering through other dimensions while she practiced here. There was no reason to think about them right now.

_But he _would _have been happy for me, _she thought, wavering. _Before he left, he said he wanted me to learn how to defend myself. This is what that is, isn't it?_ Her eyes flashed down to the sword she'd bought in Infinity. It was a cheap little thing, meant for tournaments, not long-term fighting, but it still reflected her face. A slight sunburn bridged her cheeks, and her hair hung down about half an inch further than it had in Clow, but it was her eyes that seemed the most changed. Where they had once been glazed over or gentle, they'd turned steely. They were the eyes of someone who had known pain—eyes now shared by all members of her group except Mokona. _This journey has changed me, too. I thought having my memories restored would turn me back into the girl I was in Clow, but I've grown in so many other ways. I am not the sheltered princess I used to be._

She sheathed her sword. Dusk had begun to creep in while she'd been thinking, and she had a while to walk to get back to the apartment. She started walking, wincing at the little sparks of pain that shot up her leg whenever her foot hit the ground.

_I've changed. But for better or worse? _


	72. Worlds Passed

Chapter Seventy-Two

They spent only a day in the next world.

One day was long enough to ascertain that there was no one here to help Fuuma. Seishirou had suspected as much—given the price the witch had asked, it wasn't a common cure—but it still disappointed him.

When they first landed, the boy asked if there was any powerful magic in the vicinity. Seishirou checked, unable to brush the kid's request off as he'd wanted. After the traumatic things he'd witnessed in Cirrus, compounded with the turmoil he'd felt after fighting his previous companions, Syaoran's emotional state was likely deteriorating. Stressing him too much now could prompt him to leave prematurely, which would almost certainly result in Fuuma's death.

_And besides, _Seishirou had thought, as he'd scanned this dimension for feathers, _I'm not that cruel. _

But there had been no feathers in this medieval world, and the closest thing to magic was the woods witch who served as an apothecary for those who couldn't afford real medicine.

They'd trained for a few hours. The Little Wolf learned the extent of his newfound physical prowess when he accidentally buried his sword up to the hilt into the ground. They finished training, and slept in a tent Seishirou had stored in his glass eye. By the time the sun rose in that world, they were gone.

* * *

><p>The next world they visited was sophisticated enough to have a name. They landed in a city called London. They served tea, but not of any flavor Seishirou had known. An alternative to tea was coffee, which was quite similar to what they had in Infinity, but not as watered down by cream or sugar. Seishirou tried both and decided he liked neither while the Little Wolf chased down a feather tucked away in the royal palace. The boy returned with fast-healing burns, clutching the white object in his hands. When Seishirou had seen the line of guards racing after the boy, he'd decided it was better to leave rather than try to solve the problem diplomatically.<p>

* * *

><p>"Almost turned yourself into a cinder there, didn't you?" Seishirou said when they landed in the next world.<p>

Syaoran had looked at him for a long moment, his face radiating uncertainty. "Yeah. Almost . . ."

Seishirou knew this Syaoran well enough to guess what he was thinking. "Brooding on one of the Other's memories?"

He shrugged. "Not really."

_You aren't as hard to read as you think you are, _Seishirou thought, dropping the conversation in favor of a less perilous topic. "So that makes three feathers. One in Avantine, one in Cirrus, and one in London."

The boy clutched the fluttering white thing closer to his chest. "Can I hold onto this one?" he asked, watching for a reaction.

Seishirou forced his lips into a smile. "What, you don't trust me?"

The boy's eyes narrowed. He thrust the feather into his hands. "Never mind."

They didn't speak for the rest of the night. When morning came, they went to explore the world they'd landed in. It was a desert country, similar to Clow, but with a different type of architecture. The buildings here were topped with bulb-shaped points instead of the zipper-like top of Clow Country's buildings. Though architecturally sound, the bulbs sat as if they might tumble down the side of the towers at any moment and crash down on some unsuspecting citizen.

The people here were different, too. Men wore elaborate wraps around their heads, with gems of various types accenting the front. Women walked through the city wearing silky shawls around their shoulders and heads, often with a veil to concealed their face from others. It wasn't until Syaoran spoke that Seishirou realized the boy had more experience with the things in this world than he did.

"They had a country like this in Sakura's world. My father and I spent almost three months exploring the different cities there, getting a feel for the culture."

"Your father?"

"Fujitaka-san. I consider him my father, too."

"Yet you won't acknowledge the rest of the Other's memories."

The boy shook his head. "If he was alive . . . Even if he recognized me as a separate person, he would acknowledge me as his own. I _know _he would. And that kind of certainty . . . It's not something I feel very often."

_So that's why he won't speak to me, _he thought, blinking. _When I shattered the Other's trust in Outo, this Syaoran realized I couldn't be relied on. And when I killed Reed's soldiers in Cirrus, he realized just how far I'd go to protect Fuuma. _Seishirou looked down at the sand. The front of his shoes picked up the fine grains and scattered them in waves wherever he stepped. "You don't trust me."

"I trust you," Syaoran said quickly. _Too quickly. If he really trusted me, he wouldn't have asked me to keep out of his thoughts. Or asked to keep the feather to himself. _

_Then again, it's probably wise of him not to put too much faith in me. After all, he's not going to like the price we have to pay for Fuuma's life._ Seishirou frowned. He didn't exactly feel _guilty _for deceiving Syaoran, but there was part of him that wanted to explain everything: the deals he'd made, the damage he'd done, the prices paid and the prices yet to come. But doing so would ruin any chance of saving Fuuma. _Things have to go exactly right, no matter what the boy thinks of me. If he doesn't trust me now, he'll be less broken when we're done . . . _

"Are we getting closer to the feather?" Syaoran asked. He moved so gracefully across the sand that Seishirou wondered just how many of the Other's skills he'd picked up.

"Closer. It's still a bit of a walk."

The boy nodded, all business. _He must care very deeply for his princess. Anyone else would've broken down months ago, but he's still going strong. Even if he's separated from her, he never stops thinking about her._

Music, high-pitched and reedy, like the sound of an oboe, twisted through the air. Drumbeats underscored the shrill music, adding a lower note to the growing cacophony. As a gigantic red and yellow tent rose from the sand dunes outside the city walls, Seishirou realized why.

"A circus," Syaoran said in surprise. "_That's _where the feather is?"

"So it would seem. Shall we go in?"

The boy nodded, and they approached the tent. A heavyset man with his a braid extended one hand, palm up, as they neared the flap of the tent. "Ten gold pieces," the man grumbled.

Seishirou smiled and dug through the leather pouch at his hip, using his magic to slip coins from the braided man's cash box into his hand. He dropped the coins onto the man's palm, grinning as if he was excited to watch the circus performers.

Syaoran glanced at him sharply, but said nothing as the braided man gestured for them to pass. It wasn't until they'd found seats that Syaoran turned to him and asked where he'd gotten the money for this world.

"I slipped the money out of the guard's cashbox when he wasn't looking," Seishirou said honestly.

Alarm passed across the boy's face. "But you can't do that!"

"Syaoran, I burned down an apartment building. Petty theft is the last thing we need to worry about. And besides—" he added, before the boy could open his mouth to argue. "How much money do you think these people make? Look at this crowd." He made a sweeping gesture to each of the different sections, indicating the masses of people settling into their seats. "At ten gold pieces each, these performers are making more gold in one night than your average worker could make in fifty. Even taking out expenses such as equipment and animal care, they're still left with a hefty sum to distribute between the workers. These people won't notice a few missing coins at the end of the day."

Syaoran turned his attention to the stage, still radiating disapproval.

"Let's just sit back and enjoy the show. We can look for the feather after."

"Right." More people flooded in from outside the tent, drawn by the music like moths to a candle flame. By the time the torches went out, the tent buzzed with excitement. A voice rose from the blackness, and, row by row, circles of torches came to life again. "Ladies and gentleman, hold onto your seats! The show is about to begin!" As the circle of light spread, Syaoran's eyes flew to one figure. He wore a hat of blue and gold, and carried a black cane that seemed to double as a sort of wand. Syaoran had seen such circuses before, with very similar characters. He recognized the role of a ringmaster. But there was one thing about this ringmaster that drew his immediate and undivided attention.

Sewn into the colorful fabric of the ringmaster's shirt was one of Sakura's feathers.


	73. Hypnotized

Chapter Seventy-Three

Syaoran shot up out of his seat, only to have a hand clamp down on his shoulder. "Not yet, Little Wolf," Seishirou said.

"But—"

"If you disrupt the show, there will be chaos. And if that happens, we might not make it out unscathed. It's better to be cautious and steal it away later than try for it now and get killed."

Syaoran sat back down. His fists were so tight, his knuckles went pale. _Patience, _he chanted to himself. _Self-control. _

The ringmaster went on, listing their featured performances for the night with as much enthusiasm as he hoped to see from the audience. Talk of fierce animals and daring acrobatics filled the room, only some of it coming from the man with the cane. When he did a series of back-flips off the stage, Syaoran's heart sunk. Watching Sakura's feather leave his sight and being unable to do anything about it was perhaps more disheartening than going after it and failing to get it back.

The first hour of the performance took his mind off the feather a little, though the anxiety caused by its proximity never quite left. Syaoran watched elephants parade across the stage and plop down so their front feet were free to rotate through the air. Tigers circled each other in deadly dances, moving as if to strike, then pulling back at the last moment, as if every step was controlled from afar. After the first few rounds, the animals made way for human performers. The first came down from the top of the tent, unseen all this time except by the most observant viewers. Her body was wrapped in a long ribbon of silk which moved about her like water as she twisted through the air. Her movements were as unrestrained as those of a bird in flight, and when she opened her mouth to laugh, the sound matched the call of a songbird.

_Sakura would've enjoyed this part, _he thought, as the woodwinds played to match her tinkling laugh. The woman released the silk and plummeted thirty feet before catching herself, half a foot from the ground. She gave a glorious smile and continued twirling, the silk ropes moving like a waterfall.

Two other performers joined her, falling from the ceiling in similar fashions. Their green and blue ribbons joined her red, and the three twined together, twisting up so that when they pushed off from each other, the colors spread out like a blossoming flower. Their piece concluded with a series of elaborate swinging motions as they traded silk waterfalls and climbed back up to the ceiling. When they were done, the crowd cheered in awe.

Two other performances followed, more intense than the first. In one, a pair of acrobats came down from wooden swings and took turns flipping between their perches in midair. Out of nowhere, other acrobats joined them, until there were a dozen people flying between the wooden swings.

"Princess Sakura wanted to join the circus once," Syaoran said between acts. "King Touya wouldn't let her."

"Well, would you want the princess of your country to get killed falling from a tightrope?" Seishirou asked, not taking his eyes off the performers.

Syaoran didn't answer. He'd come so close to losing Sakura too many times to be amused.

The third set of performers were up, a trio of acrobats that tripled in number as they stacked their bodies in ever-growing towers. At one point, they made a human pendulum from which one of the acrobats swung in wide circles.

"All right everyone," the ringmaster said, coming back out on stage. Syaoran tensed, seeing the feather in his shirt. "We're going to be taking a brief intermission, but be sure to come back in half an hour for the rest of the show. We'll be roasting a man alive for the grand finale. You don't want to miss it."

Syaoran wasn't sure he _wanted _to see someone burn alive, even knowing it was all a trick, but there were more pressing issues to attend to. He turned to Seishirou. "I'm going to go see if I can find out where the ringmaster leaves his outfit."

"You want me to come with?"

He shook his head. "Less conspicuous if I go alone. That way I can say I got lost if someone catches me."

Seishirou nodded. "Okay. I'll be here if you need anything."

Syaoran headed down the stairs, doing his best to blend into the crowd as they pressed toward the concession stands, while still keeping an eye out for the ringmaster. Despite his colorful clothes, he was hard to track down.

_Focus, _Syaoran told himself, closing his eyes and drifting toward the edge of the crowd. _Sakura's feather gives of waves of energy. All I have to do is pinpoint that. _The rest of the world went quiet around him as he tuned it out. As he focused, he felt a ripple in the air. He turned toward it, opening his eyes, and saw the ringmaster disappear behind a curtain.

He wandered down the hall, looking up at the tent ceiling above him, as if he wasn't really paying attention to where he was going. When he was close to the spot where the ringmaster had disappeared, he pretended to drop something. He bent down, ostensibly searching for the lost object while he listened to the sounds behind the curtain.

"I'm telling you, we've gotten better crowds ever since we bought this lucky feather in Kharta," the ringmaster said to someone unseen. "The performances are wonderful."

Someone else responded in a deep voice. "The animals are more obedient, and the performers take to your suggestions better than ever."

"Yes. At first, I doubted that magician's claim that this would enhance my powers—only fools believe in such rubbish—but then I witnessed it myself. What a wonderful power, to have control over everyone around you as if they were marionettes!"

The deeper voice was closer now. "So long as they don't break from your control, master."

Syaoran heard the whisper of fabric sliding against fabric, and resumed his search for whatever he'd dropped. The man—he assumed it was the man with the deep voice, since he and the ringmaster had been the only ones who'd spoken beyond the curtain—strode past him, not even glancing down.

He waited until the man was far down the hall, then stood. Beyond the curtain, he could hear the rumble of drawers, the crackle of torches. _Might as well go now, _he thought, sweeping the curtain aside.

The ringmaster was perched over his dresser, staring at the wall. "Back already, Brinowy?"

Syaoran took another step into the room, getting closer. When the ringmaster heard no answer, he turned.

"Who are you?"

"I'm looking for something."

"Well, beat it kid. I've got no handouts for a street urchin like you."

"I'm not a street urchin, and I'm not looking for handouts." He advanced another step. The ringmaster backed up, snatching his cane from where it leaned against the dresser and holding it up in a defensive gesture.

"Get out of here, _boy_. I've got nothing for you."

"That feather, attached to your shirt . . . I need it."

The ringmaster lifted one gloved hand up to the white feather. "It's mine."

"I'll pay you for it."

"You'd never be able to pay me enough."

"Name a price."

The man barked out a laugh. "Oh, you must think you're clever. I can make more money running this circus than you could ever pay me, and it's all because of this little charm." His fingers stroked the spine of the feather. Syaoran stiffened.

"I need it. For someone else."

"Get lost."

He advanced another step, letting his claws slide out. The ringmaster's eyes flashed down, freezing on the dagger-like growths. His mouth fell open a little bit.

"I don't want to fight you," Syaoran said, hoping the bluff would be enough. "but I will if you don't give me the feather."

"St-stay back!" His free hand fumbled for a more powerful weapon than his cane. Bits of jewelry clattered to the ground as his fingers swept across the top of the dresser.

Just as Syaoran was about to advance another step, the ringmaster found what he was looking for. In a flash of gold and silver, he brought it up to eye level.

_A watch? _Syaoran thought, eyebrows coming together in confusion. Suspended by its gold chain, the watch swung back and forth in the man's hand. Syaoran stared, dumbfounded. Fascinated.

Transfixed. The rhythm of the pendulum was such that the watch reached the bottom of its arc once every second, exactly when it _ticked_. He stared, trying to isolate the sheer quality of perfection brought on by the sound.

"Just stand there," the ringmaster said softly, and Syaoran couldn't help but obey. His entire being was focused on the swinging watch. Nothing else existed in the world, not the show, not the blood his body so desperately craved, not even Sakura. "Good, now back up a step."

Syaoran obeyed.

"Now I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say."

"Yes?"

"I want you to lie down, right where you stand, and take a nap. Don't wake up until I say 'pendulum'. Got it?"

"Yes . . ." He curled up on the floor and closed his eyes, obeying the ringmaster's orders without question.

The watch continued to _tick _even as he fell asleep.


	74. Chained

Chapter Seventy-Four

"Pendulum."

Something stirred inside Syaoran, pulling him out of his sleep. He groaned, trying to think through the haze in his brain.

"Wake up, boy," someone said. He recognized the voice, but couldn't place it. His body obeyed automatically, shifting into a sitting position. A jingle of chains ripped him from his disoriented state, and his eyes flashed open.

A pair of manacles bound his arms behind his back. Between his shirt and the chain was a metal bar, securing him to what appeared to be an unused animal cage. His first instinct was to stand up and try to tear his way free of the restraints.

"No more of that," the voice said. Syaoran lifted his head to see the ringmaster, surrounded by about half a dozen circus performers. "We don't want you tearing up your wrists before the grand finale."

Syaoran said nothing, shifting backwards in the hopes that he might be able to pick the lock despite not having the tools to do so.

The ringmaster began to pace. His stride was long and purposeful, like the gait of a jungle cat. Lithe. Deadly. "You're a very impetuous creature, aren't you? Sneaking into my chambers without first determining my power, thinking you could outfight me, barging in without a plan. Not a very smart thing to do." On the next pass, the ringmaster came closer. "But I admire your bravery. It's just the sort of quality I look for in my circus performers."

He was closer now, only half the distance he'd been when he'd started. He paused briefly, lifting his cane up and examining it as if the plain black and white stick had some fascinating quality only he could see.

"Yes, bravery and boldness. Those are the kinds of things I like to see in a circus performer. But I'm afraid there is an abundance of such people—I must be more selective." Another pass. He was only a few feet away now. Syaoran shrunk back against the cage, trying to manipulate the locking mechanism with his claws.

"But it seems you are a more interesting specimen than I first thought. Eyes that change color from brown to gold, fingernails that grow into claws in less than a second. Even fangs that pop out when you're threatened. You are—and I mean this with the utmost respect and admiration—a circus freak."

"I want nothing to do with your circus," Syaoran spat, concealing the panic that fluttered in his chest.

The ringmaster chuckled softly. "Most of those you see here don't. Not at first, anyway." His pacing ceased, and he took a sinuous step forward. The tip of his cane tapped the bottom of Syaoran's chin, tilting his head up. "You seemed very interested in my this feather. Do you know what it does?"

"It increases the power of latent psychic abilities, improves the functionality of magic, and serves as a battery for technologically advanced worlds." _Of _course _I know what it does._

The ringmaster looked taken aback. "Well, if it does all those things, why would I give it to a street urchin like you?"

"I'm not a street urchin. I'm a traveler, and I'm trying to track down those feathers." He glared up at the man, daring him to contest his assertion.

"Nevertheless, you won't have this one. You know about its mystical qualities—you know it makes the wearer much more powerful than they could ever be. And can you guess what my power is?"

Syaoran thought about it for a moment, trying to remember what had happened before he'd passed out. He'd slipped inside the ringmaster's room, confronted him about the feather. _That _was _really stupid. I should've waited until after the show._

He remembered the ringmaster fumbling for a weapon, but everything after that was blurry, as if seen through a veil. Only snapshots broke through with any clarity. There had been a flash of gold, the face of a clock, the inexorable _tick_ that went with it. But nothing else.

_Something's interfering with my memory, _he thought, trying to move his hand to the point of tension in his forehead before he remembered it was chained behind his back. _What happened to me? _

The ringmaster's cane left the hollow of his throat. "You don't know? Think hard now. I've given you enough clues."

_Clues? When? Before he knocked me out, or since I woke up? _Frustrated by the lack of detail, he forced himself to go over the details again. Gold and silver, swinging back and forth . . . _tick tock tick tock_ . . . _The first word I heard when I woke up was "pendulum." But how is that relevant to what he's saying now? _

"Any guesses?" the ringmaster asked.

"No."

"How unfortunate. Well, it's good for you, then, that sharpness of mind isn't a requirement here."

"I don't want to be in your circus," he snapped.

"You don't have a choice." The tip of the man's cane prodded his shoulder, driving him back against the cage. "Since you're unable to grasp the extent of my powers, I'll have to show you." He took something from his pocket and held it up. Immediately, Syaoran was transfixed by the beautiful watch. Everything about it was so perfect, down to the crystal etches marking each minute as it passed. Exquisitely crafted, radiating a faint luminescence. So perfect. So fascinating.

So fascinating that it gave him pause. While he was able to pore over an ancient artifact for hours at a time, he had never been especially interested in watches or related accessories. And even if this _was _an ancient marvel of some sort, he had more important things to be worried about, like the manacles around his wrist.

_Something's wrong here, _he thought. _He's messing with my head somehow. _He forced himself to look away. The motion was stiff and painful.

"_Look _at it," the ringmaster growled.

The watch continued to _tick_. Syaoran found himself drawn to the sound, like a music student might be drawn to a symphony. _It's the watch. He's using it to hypnotize me._

Instantly, Syaoran brought all his magic to a single point in his forehead. It burned like an ember until he let it explode out. All at once, the absurd fascination he'd felt for the watch disappeared, and he was able to think clearly again. He brought a wall up around his thoughts, just as Seishirou had taught him, and looked up at the ringmaster.

A sordid smirk dominated the man's face. Judging from that look, it was easy to see the man thought his hypnosis was working. When Syaoran didn't respond after a few minutes, the smile stretched wider. "You're going to be in my circus, boy."

"Yes," he said dreamily, as if under the spell of the watch. This was evidently the correct response because the ringmaster went on.

"My last act for the night is the most dangerous. I usually try it on new recruits, before I let them join us in earnest. Have to cull the herd, you understand. Those who survive the grand finale get to stay. Those who don't, well . . . Let's just say it's lucky I can compel them not to feel pain, after . . . "

Syaoran focused on his shield, not allowing himself to be drawn in by the musical _tick tock _of the watch.

"I have no worries about you making it, though. I wouldn't even consider risking someone with such . . . _unique _attributes."

Syaoran took a deep breath, refusing to show the panic bubbling up inside him. _He told the audience the grand finale was going to be watching someone burn alive. I thought he meant lock someone in a burning cage and have them escape before they got burned. But this . . . _

_Seishirou will stop them. As soon as I come out on stage, he'll know something's wrong. And if _I _don't go, the ringmaster will just send someone else out. _Faces flitted through his mind, some familiar, some practically strangers. _A man who would test people's skill by setting them up to burn wouldn't balk at the idea of sending out a total stranger to get killed. At least I have someone to save my skin if things get out of control. _

"So what do you think? Do you want to join our circus now?"

_Show no fear. _"Yes."

The ringmaster chuckled. "Wonderful. Wonderful! Brinowy, bring him to the cage, would you? This is going to be a very exciting finale."

A female voice answered. "Of course, master."

The constant _tick tock _faded as the ringmaster pocketed the watch. Syaoran closed his eyes and let his body go limp, like a rag doll. Someone fitted a metal collar around his neck and shackles around his ankles before releasing the manacles around his wrists. They brought his hands out in front of him and relocked the restraints.

"Everybody in your places," the ringmaster sang. "The show's about to begin."


	75. Dressed

Chapter Seventy-Five

"Hold out your hand, please," Brinowy said.

Syaoran obeyed, moving as if in a trance. If he didn't act perfectly, the ringmaster might begin to believe he was lucid. If that meant listening to the costume designer while she covered him in cosmetics, that was fine.

"This shade of red looks lovely on you," Brinowy said as she drew the tiny black brush across his nails. Fire-red nail polish dripped from the edge of the bottle as she plunged the brush into it again. "Like glowing embers. The crowd is going to love it."

He kept his face expressionless. He had no idea if victims of hypnosis were supposed to answer questions posed by people other than their master, but since the comment required no reply, he kept his mouth shut.

"There. Now hold out your arm. We're going to paint it for the show."

Brinowy unscrewed a bottle of orange paint and began outlining what appeared to be lines of flame. _I'm going to be roasted alive, and they want to paint flames on me,_ Syaoran thought._ How fitting. _

The painting process took almost half an hour, during which Brinowy called three other girls over to work on him. By the time they were done, his only garments were the orange shirt, crimson shorts, and a pair of red and yellow wings attached to his arms. The rest of his body was painted as if afire. _When the audience sees the flames burn this all away, will they think I died, or see it as part of the show? _he wondered.

"You are such an adorable little phoenix, aren't you? It's a shame the ringmaster wants you to burn."

He said nothing, but the woman must've seen his jaw tighten because she sighed.

"You poor boy. I wish there was something I could do to help you, but I have little say in what the ringmaster does. I'm just his concubine, after all." She blinked. "Oh my, your cheeks are flaming! Do they not have mistresses where you come from?"

"No," he said softly. _Not in Clow, anyway._

Brinowy gave him a small smile. "Many cultures frown upon extramarital relations," she said. "But I have always been of the mind that there are worse things to be than a rich man's mistress. I'm well provided for."

"Don't you ever want to leave?" he asked.

"Sometimes. But it is not something I speak of. Close your eyes. We need to apply eye shadow."

He obeyed. A moment later, he felt the pressure of a brush on his eyelid.

"This will make the gold in your eyes stand out. The ringmaster said you would be taking on your special form."

"People of my kind are often referred to as vampires," he said, giving her the name for what he turned into.

"Vamp . . . ire," she echoed, tasting the word. It sounded quite foreign on her lips, and he was willing to bet they didn't have a word for what he was in her language. "Is it a common occurrence in your country?"

"No."

Brinowy was silent for a while, applying makeup to his face. It was rather like the Yuka-ku, in Shara. Dressing up for a crowd. _Except no one burned to death at their circus, _Syaoran thought, frowning.

"Well, whatever you are, I'm sure you'll make it out okay."

"I have a request," he said, suddenly remembering something. "There was something in the pocket of the clothes I wore here. A little metal screw, about this long." He indicated the length with two fingers. "Can you bring it to me?"

The woman seemed confused. "Why? Do you intend to use it to get out?"

He shook his head. "It has sentimental value. It belonged to this girl . . ."

"Ah. Say no more. Erii, can you bring this boy's clothes over here?"

The blonde woman glanced up. Syaoran recognized her vaguely from Outo. _She wouldn't know me in this world, _he thought, a little sad. "Sure thing, Bri." She picked up the bundle of clothes Syaoran had bought in Avantine and tossed them over. Brinowy dug through the pockets until she produced the metal screw from Sakura's leg brace.

"Is this it?"

"Yes, thank you." He reached for the little trinket and clutched it close to his chest. _Here we go__,_ he thought. _If I don't survive this, I'll never see Sakura again. This may be the closest I ever get. _

"I'm sure she was happy to know you cared so much for her."

He looked up, feeling oddly vulnerable. "I never told her."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"And she's still alive, so . . ."

"I didn't realize . . ."

He folded his fingers around the little bolt. "It doesn't matter. Even if I did get to see her again, she would never love me."

"You don't know that."

"But—"

"_No_. If you love someone strongly enough, you'll do whatever it takes to make them love you back. Even if she doesn't love you now, I'm sure that once she sees your devotion, she'll be moved by it."

He didn't look up from the bolt. "Maybe," he finally said, just to appease her. _If I make it through tonight, I might even believe it. _

"It's almost time to go. You can hold onto that bolt, if you want, but I don't think it's going to help you."

He stood. "I'm ready."

Brinowy's smile wasn't as radiant as Sakura's smile, but it was sincere. She leaned down, taking his face between her manicured fingernails, and kissed his cheek. "There will be a mechanism at the base of the cage, where the flames come out," she whispered in a rush. "It won't be activated until the flames have crawled up to the top of the cage, but as soon as they do, reach down and pull the lever. The bottom of the cage will open right up."

He looked at her with wide eyes, and she grinned again. "Put on a good show, darling. The master loves skilled performers."

"Thank you," he said, knowing it was the only thanks he could give without tipping off the other performers. Brinowy waved at him, and two of the other women who'd worked on his makeup took him by the arms and unshackled him. They led him into a metal cage, sitting atop a wheeled support stand. In minutes, he was crammed beneath the circular stage, ready to rise up from the floor as soon as the current performers finished up their acts.

_I hope Brinowy was right about that mechanism, _he thought, just as the trapdoor opened above him.

* * *

><p>When the boy didn't return after an hour, Seishirou went looking for him.<p>

It wasn't that he was worried. The boy could handle himself well enough in a fight, especially now that he was a vampire. But Seishirou knew from years of traveling that it was better to be cautious and stumble into peril than to allow things to spiral out of control without even checking on them.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on the performers—a bunch of fire-dancers cloaked in sequined silk dresses—which made it easy to slip past the stands unnoticed. He walked toward the concessions stands, since that was where the flow of traffic directed him. From his new vantage point, he scoped out the tent. _Where would the boy look first? _he wondered, keeping his expression smooth and cheerful. _Probably wherever the ringmaster went during intermission. Perhaps a private room of some sort. _

His eyes fell across a section of the tent blocked off by a thin cord. From the twine hung a label that read "performers only."

Seishirou took that as an invitation.

Security was astonishingly lax for such a big event. It wouldn't have mattered either way, though. The closest Seishirou had come to getting killed in recent memory was during his fight with the red-eyed ninja in Cirrus. He wasn't about to be done in by a troupe of acrobats or their security guards.

He made his way down the corridor, trying to ignore the gaudy red and yellow stripes of the tent as he passed. When he saw a sign proclaiming the "Ringmaster's Room," he stepped through the curtain.

No one was inside, but he could tell from the scent of the place that people had been in and out all day. _The Little Wolf was here, too, at some point._

He moved swiftly, not caring to get caught in the event someone walked in to retrieve something for the ringmaster. He rifled through the drawers of a portable costume trunk, finding more flamboyant outfits than he'd ever seen in one place. One drawer contained only jewelry. Much of it was cheap costume jewelry, meant to be worn at a show, or perhaps tossed to the audience after a performance, but some of it looked quite expensive. _Better leave it, _he finally decided. _No sense in revealing my presence when one of us could already be in danger. _

He searched the rest of the room, upturning the bed. Aside from several knives and a machete, there was nothing interesting under there. He put the mattress back. _No sign of the feather. No sign of Syaoran either. _

Far away—probably from the stage, given the theatrical quality of the voice—the ringmaster spoke. "Tonight you have witnessed feats of strength and agility, but there is one more act yet to come. If you brought young children, you may wish to have them look away, for there is no trick more dangerous, no creature so fierce, as what you are to witness tonight! Ladies and gentleman, put your hands together for the first—and perhaps the last—act by The Phoenix Boy!"

Seishirou looked up as a cheer rose from the audience. _Everyone's so excited to watch someone get burned to death. It's like the gladiator matches I saw in Rome. Barbaric. But still . . . No sense in missing the grand finale. _

He abandoned the little room, hurrying down the hallway before anyone saw him. He stepped over the piece of twine that separated the performer's resting place from the main part of the tent.

The crowd was still raving by the time he got close enough to see what was going on. The promise of such a daring escape had turned this group of relatively civilized human beings into a bunch of animals. _Not the kind of crowd you want at a high-tension event like this,_ Seishirou thought, frowning as he took in the oil-soaked cage rising up from center stage.

In the cage stood a boy dressed in flowing silks, with wings made of red and yellow feathers obviously meant to resemble fire. His skin was painted with tongues of flame, and even his nails were a glistening crimson. But all those details were lost on Seishirou the moment he recognized the face behind the makeup. "Little Wolf!"


	76. Blazed

Chapter Seventy-Six

The flames rose from a disk at the base of the cage.

Syaoran took a deep breath as the flames began to crawl up the oiled bars, knowing he'd need every bit of oxygen he could get if wanted to survive this nightmare. Despite the situation, he felt strangely calm.

The flames spread slowly out and up the spherical cage, not close enough to consume him, but giving off such heat that he felt like he was trapped in an oven. The taste of smoke tainted the air. The audience cheered, oblivious to his discomfort.

He clutched the metal screw close to his chest, folding his wings as the fire licked at their tips. _Wherever you are, _he thought, images of Sakura's face flashing through his mind. _I will find you again. _

For as much oil as the crew had doused the cage in, the fire crawled along quite slowly. Almost ten seconds after the first flames had sprouted near his feet, the tips of the flames still only licked at the halfway point. _Too slow, _he thought, taking another careful breath. _I'm going to get smothered before they reach the top. _

"Little Wolf!" someone yelled. The voice was so strained, he didn't recognize it. It wasn't until the words themselves sunk in that he realized who was calling. He turned to the voice.

Beyond the wall of orange, Seishirou stood. The flames reflected in his glass eye, but the other one conveyed only terror. Syaoran watched him for a moment, then turned away.

_That's right, _he thought. _Seishirou will help me. Everything will be fine. _He blinked, trying to dispel the prickling discomfort in his eyes caused by the smoke.

The rumble of the audience drowned out any further cries. Syaoran watched the fire ascend past the halfway mark, then continue its steady crawl up the cage. The air around him wavered with a heat mirage.

Syaoran discovered vampires could feel heat a lot more clearly than they could feel cold.

Sweat dripped down his arms, falling to the metal plate below. Where the droplets fell, they turned into steam.

Everything around him was hot now, and he cringed at the thought of trying to touch the metal lever at his feet. _I'll give myself severe burns if I touch any part of this cage, _he thought. _But if I don't get out, I'll die. Is this how the ringmaster chooses his subjects? Does he judge them based on whether they choose to maim themselves in this contraption for this circus? Is this just another form of entertainment for him?_

_No more. I won't allow this to happen to someone else. _

He tried to breathe, but the air was so stifling, it felt as if there was no oxygen. _Maybe there isn't. Maybe the fire is using it all up. _

The flames reached eye level. Through them, he saw Seishirou fighting off a dozen strongmen. Syaoran could see the dark-haired man was trying not to kill them, but also the haste in his motions, the strain in his features.

Seishirou would not make it in time.

His body was starting to feel the lack of oxygen. Grey smudges swarmed the edges of his vision, and his muscles began to go limp without his permission. Some survival instinct prompted him to get as low to the ground as possible, where there might be some small pocket of oxygen beneath the smoke and fire. The shift brought little relief.

_My life has always been filled with storms and fire, _he reflected. _From the moment I fell into Clow Country, my existence has been jeopardized and rejected. I have never known safety or security. I have never known a life where I didn't have to fear imprisonment or isolation. I have never been free. But I will not die a caged bird._

He tilted his head up, to look at the ceiling of the cage. The tongues of flame were just starting to nip at the metal circle on top. _Is it enough to release the latch? _he wondered, biting his lip. _If I pull it too soon, I'll only burn my hand. But if I wait . . ._

Orange and yellow overtook everything around him. _Some say the world will end in fire, _he thought. He'd read a poem with that line, once . . .

In his right hand rested the metal bolt. Compared to the blistering heat of the air, it was blessedly cool. _I have to get this back to her, _he thought. _No matter what._

There was no more time to waste waiting for the wall of fire to rise. Syaoran bent down, looking for the latch. He found it, and paused only half a second as he decided to use his left hand instead of his right. _I'll need my sword hand if I survive, after all._

The metal was hotter than the air. His first impulse when his skin encountered the mechanism was to yank his hand away. But logic dictated that doing so would only prolong his agony. So, skin blistering, he pulled up on the glowing handle.

The cage itself seemed to buckle, and any logic that remained to him yielded to panic as the floor disappeared underneath him. He crashed down, skin peeling free from the lever and leaving his hand raw and burned. It wasn't until he tasted oxygen that his terror receded.

He lay in the dirt under the stage for almost half a minute, gasping like a dying koi. Fierce pain crippled his hand when he tried to flex his burned fingers. Even through the chaos, he heard the crowd cheering. _Their phoenix has flown the coop, _he thought irrationally, dragging another breath through his lips.

"You did good," a voice said. Syaoran looked up to see Brinowy's smiling face above him. "Now come back up on stage and take a bow."

"My hand—"

"Take a bow first, then we'll take care of it."

The promise of relief was too tantalizing to pass up, even with the delay. He got to his feet, bumping his head on the stage above him. Brinowy took him by his upper arm and led him to a trapdoor. "Make sure the whole crowd sees you, then walk just past the concessions stands. The medics will be waiting."

"Okay." He hoisted himself through the trapdoor—not an easy task with one hand burned, and the other clutching a piece of metal. The crowd roared at his appearance.

_Just take a bow, _he thought, stooping down to make the appropriate gesture. He did his best to keep his blistered hand out of sight.

"And The Phoenix Boy rises from the ashes!" the ringmaster called, grabbing him by his right wrist and lifting it up in a gesture of victory. "A wonderful end to a wonderful performance! Thank you all for coming, and I sincerely hope you never forget the spectacle you witnessed tonight."

The crowd cheered again, rising from their seats in exalted applause. Syaoran stood there as long as he could bear, then stepped away from the ringmaster. _I'll deal with you later, _he thought, as he walked offstage.

Seishirou had just finished felling the strongmen. A few people who'd been nearby when the fight had broken out were staring at the dark-haired man, but most had been too occupied watching the burning cage. As soon as his teacher saw him, he abandoned the unconscious bodies and ran up to him.

"I'm fine," Syaoran said quickly. It was only half a lie.

For once, Seishirou appeared at a total loss. His hair was disheveled, his golden eyes wild. He spoke not a word as the emotion seeped out of his expression.

A group of girls—many of them among the women who'd applied his makeup—trotted over to them, bearing bandages and cylinders of salve. "For your burns," Erii told him, unscrewing the cap of one of the tubes. Syaoran extended his hand gratefully. "You did good."

Syaoran sighed as the cool gel spread out across his burn. The pain faded so fast it almost didn't seem real.

"Is it safe to stay here?" Seishirou finally asked.

"No, but I have business with the ringmaster."

The other vampire looked at him as if he were crazy, then let loose a shaky laugh. "You scared me, Little Wolf. I didn't know you had an escape plan."

One of the women wound bandages around his hand. He thanked her, then returned his attention to his teacher. "There's something I have to do. I can't die until I accomplish it."

"Can't and won't are two very different concepts, Syaoran."

He shrugged. "Not in my case."

"Since you were part of the show, you're allowed to come back and relax with us," Brinowy said, approaching from the stage. Her brown eyes slid over to Seishirou. "You, too."

Seishirou looked at him for some signal. Syaoran nodded. "That would be divine," his teacher said, grinning.

They were brought to the restricted part of the tent, where the acrobats and fire-dancers came to relax after a performance. Liquor was distributed in vast quantities. Syaoran refused everything he was offered. He'd need a clear head for the next part.

The party went well into the night, until most of the performers had either passed out on the ground or staggered to their rooms to sleep. When everything was quiet, Syaoran slipped out and went to the ringmaster's room, shadowed by Seishirou.

The ringmaster was still awake, if slightly inebriated. His performance clothes lay discarded by his bed, all except for his shirt, which hung delicately from a hook in the wall. "Excellent show tonight," he said.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Syaoran said stiffly. "It was nearly a disaster."

"Yes, but that's the best kind of performance. Real danger is so much more interesting to watch than parlor tricks. Besides, I knew you would pull through."

Syaoran advanced another step, keeping calm as he summoned his sword. "I'm told you do this to test all your new recruits."

"Oh yes," the ringmaster said. Syaoran brought a wall up around his thoughts, ready to block the man if he tried to hypnotize him.

"And what happens to the performers who don't escape in time? Do you let them go, or do they simply burn to death?"

The man smiled knowingly. "If you're asking, you must know the answer."

Seishirou barked out a laugh. "You're almost as cryptic as I am."

Syaoran advanced another step. "Is that normal for this world? Killing others for entertainment?"

"There have been a great many cultures where games of death were held for fun. What I do is nothing new."

"I see." Syaoran tilted his blade so it reflected his face back at him. His eyes were brown. Tranquil. Controlled.

The ringmaster died quickly, impaled on his sword with little ceremony. The blade pierced the thick muscle of his heart. As soon as Syaoran withdrew it, the blood ran free, and he toppled forward.

For one second, Syaoran saw what he thought might've been a flash of fear on the man's face. But he would not have bet on it.

He licked the blood off his sword. No sense wasting a potential meal, even if he was still full from Cirrus. Then he went and plucked the feather from the colorful shirt. He didn't even have to cut the threads; the feather fell free at the slightest tug.

"We can go now," he said, bringing the feather inside his body.

Seishirou nodded. They left.

Once they were well past the red and yellow stripes of the circus tent, Seishirou asked him something. "Why did you kill him?"

"For Brinowy," Syaoran answered. His teacher looked at him oddly, and he explained. "That woman with the brown hair, who invited us to the back of the tent, after the show. She was the ringmaster's mistress."

"Won't she be rather torn up that he's dead?"

"Maybe," Syaoran allowed. After a moment, he said, "But she deserves better than him."

Seishirou looked at him for a long moment, not smiling for once. "Do you want your pills now?"

"I'd like that."

His mentor handed him the orange bottle. Syaoran popped one pill into his mouth and swallowed. _Whatever it takes to keep the nightmares away._ He returned the pill bottle, then put his hands in his pockets. They'd returned his clothes during the party, enabling him to abandon the gaudy outfit they'd put him in.

His fingers found the metal bolt and closed around it.

_Whatever it takes to keep the nightmares away. _


	77. Traveled

Chapter Seventy-Seven

They left the following morning.

Syaoran gathered up what little he'd collected in a backpack and waited for Seishirou to finish caring for Fuuma. The dying man didn't stir.

"How much longer do you think we'll be traveling?" Syaoran asked as his teacher drew the feather back inside his body.

"I don't have an exact timeline. Another month maybe. Less, if we keep traveling at the rate we have been." His voice was subdued. Whether that was due to his brother's condition or Seishirou's exhaustion after the previous night, Syaoran couldn't say.

Syaoran looked down at his bandaged hand, flexing his fingers. The movement pulled painfully at his skin. _It must've been a severe burn, to still be healing, _he thought. _But nothing worse than what I've already endured. _

"Ready to go?" Seishirou asked.

"I'm ready."

The magic in the man's eye stirred, and they were drawn up into the dimensional sea.

Syaoran tried not to think about how it had felt to thrust his sword through the ringmaster's heart, but it did cross his mind. He didn't feel _guilty_, exactly. The ringmaster had wronged him horrendously, risked his life for the amusement of others. He'd been doing so to countless people for far too long. But somehow, the lack of regret he felt for killing the man worried Syaoran more than the actual act.

_Is it becoming so easy to hurt others that I'm unable to empathize with them anymore? _he wondered at one point, as he crawled through a broken window. There was a feather in this world, apparently in possession of the local gang. They were in and out in less than half an hour, without having killed anyone.

They moved onto the next world that night, not wanting their theft to catch up to them.

Syaoran also tried not to think of the people who had suffered and died because of him. But the list was growing longer: the people who'd perished in the Ephemeral Apartments because of Seishirou's intervention; Souma, who'd bled out when he'd bitten her; Miss Adele, who'd died because his presence had drawn Fei Wang Reed's soldiers to Cirrus; and now the ringmaster, killed by his own hand. _How long will it be until I lose someone I care about? _he wondered, in those rare moments where he allowed himself to think about it.

The next world they landed in was superficially similar to Infinity, but not as rife with crime. There, they acquired a fifth feather.

Three worlds went by where they found no feathers. The first was a world that seemed to be stuck in Medieval times. The second was an ice-locked world without any people or signs of civilization. The third was a world where everything was run by magic. They spent almost two weeks there, to ascertain that none of the major magical presences were Sakura's feathers, but in the end, there was nothing of interest.

Seishirou never mentioned the nightmarish circus, but Syaoran sensed a fundamental change in their relationship. At first, he assumed the careful distance was due to the man's assumption that he didn't want to talk about it. But, as their conversations grew more stifled, Syaoran began to wonder if there wasn't something else bothering his teacher.

_Maybe I should ask, _he thought as they packed their bags. He'd purchased a couple books, having recognized the language of the magical country, and he now had a few more possessions to take care of. His most important possession still sat in his pocket, a comforting weight at his hip.

He was about to ask Seishirou if something was wrong when his teacher spoke up. "You've been practicing shielding your mind ever since I taught you how, yes?"

Surprised by the question, Syaoran answered honestly. "Every day."

"And it's getting easier?"

He nodded.

"Good."

He waited for Seishirou to say something more. When the dark-haired man remained silent, he returned his attention to his bag.

The next world they landed in _did _have a feather.

When they first fell into the world, Syaoran assumed it was some sort of magic that turned the sky such a brilliant sapphire. The sun itself appeared as a sapphire disk in the sky, painting the clouds baby-blue. The hue was such that all Syaoran could do was stare, trying to figure out how such a celestial occurrence could come to be. Until the blue orb fell below the horizon, he was unable to look away.

"That was amazing," he breathed, when the blue star finally disappeared. He knew it was unwise to stare at the sun, as evidenced by the afterimages dotting his retinas, but he'd never seen such a beautiful sight in any of the worlds he'd visited.

Seishirou had smiled softly. "There are a great many wonders for those who travel far enough. This may be one of them."

Syaoran blinked, still half-blind. "Is there a feather in this world?" he asked. That had always been one of the first topics that had come up during his travels, even when he'd been with the others. _The others . . ._ he thought, fighting off a pang of yearning. _They probably hate me even more since Cirrus. _

"There's a great power emanating from the east, but it's far away from here."

An unfamiliar voice called out from behind. "You must be talking about the Mist."

They both looked up at the speaker. A girl of about fifteen, with golden hair tied back in twin braids, watched them warily from the top of the hill. Dozens of blue and white flowers shifted under her feet, stirred by the breeze. On some of the blossoms hung tiny, unripe berries.

"Hello, there," Seishirou said, waving.

The girl leapt down from where she stood. The ground had been altered all around them—terraced, for agriculture, like in some of the countries the Other had visited with Fujitaka-san. But if these dainty flowers qualified as part of a farm, Syaoran could only imagine the tiny population of the area. "Who might you be?"

"We're travelers," Syaoran said. "We come from far beyond this country."

The girl blinked. "Well, that explains why y'all don't know of the Mist."

_The Mist? _Syaoran waited for her to explain, but she just frowned and looked around uneasily. "Do y'all make a habit of hanging out on the edge of berry fields, or something?"

"Actually, no," Seishirou said. "We were looking for an Inn, but we lost our way, so we decided this was as good a place to camp as any. We're sorry if we disturbed you."

Conflict raged in the young girl's eyes, and Syaoran heard, for the first time, the manipulative edge to Seishirou's voice. _He's trying to get sympathy. Like he expects her to just take in three total strangers. _

"Well . . . Y'all might as well c'mon in. My ma's making dinner right now. I'm sure we'll have enough left over."

"That's very kind of you," Seishirou said.

"What are you _doing_?" Syaoran hissed, keeping his voice low so the girl couldn't hear.

"Finding a place for us to sleep."

"You can't just impose on their household like this, after . . . after what happened to Miss Adele."

"Sure we can." Seishirou slung Fuuma over his shoulder and started up the stepped hill. Syaoran glanced back at the horizon. The sky was still blue, but it was the deep, natural blue brought on by dusk. He followed Seishirou.

"We've got the farmhouse here," the girl said. "It's been a while since we've had visitors. Come on in."

They went inside. The house was plain, but attractive in its simplicity. A rocking chair made its home in the corner of the entryway, a lacy pillow sitting on top of the seat. Family photos, framed in squares of unmarked wood, adorned the wall. Two pairs of shoes and a pair of boots were pushed up against the wooden trim.

"Ma, we've got visitors!" the girl yelled into the next room. From the smells issuing forth from the arch, Syaoran guessed that was the kitchen.

"Visitors?" a soft voice repeated. A woman entered through the arch. Her hair was mostly gold, like the girl's, but with a few strands of grey mixed in. "Oh, well come right in. Dinner's almost ready, and it's been a long time since Sadie here has had any boys come to see her."

Syaoran felt his face turn red. "Oh, I'm not—"

Seishirou slapped him on the back. "Go with it, Little Wolf," he whispered.

"They're travelers," the girl—Sadie—said, her hands coiling into fists. "It's their first day in Sapphirine."

_Sapphirine, _he thought. _What a fitting name for a world with a sapphire sunset. _

"Sadie, set them up a place at the table. I don't care how far they've traveled, they've never had cooking like mine."

"Okay, ma." Sadie skipped off through the door, while her mother stepped into the entryway.

"You look like you've come a long way," the woman said, eyeing Fuuma's unconscious figure. "Why don't we find you a room?"

And Seishirou, being who he was, just smiled and said, "That would be divine."


	78. Slapped

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Syaoran learned several things at the dinner table, some more important than others.

The first thing he learned were the names of the people who lived here. There was Sadie, who'd found them in the berry fields, and her mother, Joanna, who had cooked everything on the table. When a man of fifty _clunked _in through the front door with his leather boots and a case of milk bottles, Joanna introduced him as her husband, Bob.

"We've been married thirty-five years," she said proudly, squeezing her husband's hand as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Haven't we, hon?"

He grumbled an assent. The nonverbal reply and continuing lack of conversation reminded Syaoran oddly of Kurogane, and he felt a little pang of guilt when he realized he missed his old teacher. _But I still have work to do with Seishirou. And it might be a while before I see them again anyway._

The next important thing he learned about was the phenomena Sadie had referred to as "the Mist."

"It started up a couple years ago," the girl explained, pausing between bites of mashed potatoes. "At first, everyone was real scared. The government said it was some sort of unnatural phenomena, and they were worried another country was trying to make war on us. But they couldn't find nothing dangerous about the Mist. All it did was rise up out of this canyon and turn the sun blue when it got down to the horizon. It affected the way the light hit our eyes, somehow. Whenever they went down to investigate, though, the Mist got too thick to see through. So they decided to leave it, on the condition that all the landowners 'round here would up and call 'em if weird stuff started to happen."

"_Has_ anything strange happened?" Syaoran asked, suspecting a feather's involvement.

"Nah, nothing much. There were some rumors going 'round that if you got too close to it, your body started getting stronger, but those were just rumors. Some kids started 'em, I think."

Seishirou nodded, but for just a moment, his eyes touched knowingly on Syaoran. "Kids will be kids."

"Is there any way we can get a closer look at this Mist?" Syaoran asked.

Sadie looked suddenly uneasy. "Well . . . I guess it's not dangerous, but . . ."

Joanna cut in. "People just don't go around that canyon much, for fear of what the Mist might do. We're not such fools as to believe something so strange is safe to play around."

"I'll take 'em tomorrow," Joanna's husband interjected, rising from his chair. "I'm mighty curious myself as to what might be down there."

The first spoken words by the man sent another wash of nostalgia through him. _Kurogane-san would've done the same thing, _he thought. _To keep me from getting hurt. _He looked down at his plate, and suddenly, his throat felt too thick for him to eat. He rested his fork on the edge of the plate, keeping his fingers wrapped around the handle. _Kurogane-san would also make me come to breakfast and dinner. And we would already be looking for this world's feather, or doing sword practice, or something productive._

Seishirou nudged him with his elbow, and he looked up again. The dark-haired man gave him a look that seemed somehow cold, as if he'd overheard his internal monologue.

Syaoran looked back down, ignoring the cool glance. He lifted a spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth and kept eating.

Dinner passed with surprising ease after that, though Syaoran no longer participated actively in the conversation. It was more comfortable than the meals in Infinity had been. Despite their assertion that they didn't get guests often, these people were good hosts. They chattered about recent events, about Sadie's schoolwork, about the berry crops sitting out on the terraces. Once in a while, Joanna would try to bring him into the conversation by requesting his opinion. He gave short answers, not knowing what might offend the people in this country.

Dinner went on much longer than the meals in Infinity, probably because of the excess of food. Everyone gorged themselves, and Syaoran wondered how such skinny people could eat so much in one sitting. _They must work hard on the crops, to burn so many calories, _he reasoned, scooping up the last of his green beans and swallowing them. He didn't care for the taste, but he imagined it would've been rude for him to refuse their hospitality, since they offered it so freely.

"Y'all can spend the night in one of the guest rooms," the husband said. "But don't go snooping around my daughter's room, got it?"

"Bob," Joanna chided him.

"I mean it. We'll go out and look first thing tomorrow morning, after the cows are milked."

"Thank you," Syaoran said, daring to meet the man's eyes for the first time. They were dark, but earnest. "For your hospitality, and also for helping us."

He got up and rinsed his plate. "We should all be heading to bed. It's late."

They rose from the table and retired to their rooms. Syaoran walked into the spacious room where Seishirou had left Fuuma before dinner. His teacher perched himself on the edge of the bed and drew a feather out of his body, as he'd done every few hours during their travels.

"You seemed reserved tonight," Seishirou noted after a moment.

"I guess . . ."

The room was silent for a few minutes, until the older man sighed impatiently. "Are you going to tell me why, or do I have to guess?"

Syaoran was about to say he was fine, before he realized the reassurance would do little to mollify his teacher. So instead, he told the truth. "I miss the others."

Seishirou stiffened. "They betrayed you."

"So did you."

The dark-haired man looked up sharply, frustration flitting across his face. "When?"

"Outo."

"That wasn't you."

Syaoran frowned. "You say I shouldn't differentiate between myself and my clone, yet you don't want to acknowledge that the way you treated him in Outo hurt me, too. So do you only want me to differentiate between us when it's convenient for you, or should I keep my mind separate from his like I have been?"

Seishirou seldom got angry, but Syaoran could see the look of resentment in the man's eyes at the accusation. He arched one eyebrow, waiting for a response. Finally, Seishirou said, "Is that how you're going to handle it, then? Twisting it around so I'm wrong no matter what?"

Syaoran crossed his arms in front of him, emboldened by the turn in the conversation. "You certainly seem to twist things around on me often enough."

Seishirou gave no response except to turn his head back to Fuuma.

"You tense up whenever I talk about Kurogane-san, or Fai-san, or Sakura, and you tell me I'm better off without them. Why is that? You think I'm just going to back to them, without warning, without even talking to you? You think I'm going to make this past month and a half pointless by abandoning my duty now?"

Seishirou still didn't respond.

"They mattered to me," he went on. "Even if they hated me, I didn't hate them. I needed them too much. I still do. And having you react like you do whenever they come up . . . I don't like it."

"You've been brooding over this a while, haven't you?"

"Since Cirrus. At first, I went along with what you said because I thought you were right. That they'd betrayed me back in Infinity, that they could've done anything else to help me and it would've worked better. That Fai-san had attacked me in cold blood and Kurogane-san had come in knowing it was a possibility. But that was _wrong_." His voice came out stronger than he'd intended as he spiraled further down in his misery.

"You shouldn't criticize Kurogane-san," Syaoran went on, rising to his feet and pacing the length of the room. "I can see now that there's know way he could've known what Fai would do in Infinity. But if _you _did, and this was all just some elaborate plot to . . . to . . . I don't know what, then—"

He jerked back, startled by a sudden movement in his peripheral vision. His reaction came too late, though. Seishirou's palm smashed into his cheek hard enough to knock his head back. He recoiled, shocked by the sudden sting on his face.

Seishirou's hand coiled around the front of his shirt, and Syaoran felt his back hit the wall. "Don't question my motives," Seishirou snarled. Fear coiled around Syaoran's lungs, making it impossible to breathe. "All I've done, I've done for my brother. _Y__ou will not question me_." His mentor shook him once, claws piercing the cotton fabric of Syaoran's shirt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, too scared, too stunned, to retaliate.

His teacher went on. "I've gone out of my way to make this journey easy on you. I've even helped you look for the feathers so your traitor friends might take you back, if you ever choose to go to them. So don't you dare question me."

"I'm sorry."

Seishirou released him. Syaoran shuffled sideways, since he couldn't retreat any further with his back against the wall. His mentor turned away, crawling onto the bed and continuing Fuuma's treatment. "Remember that, Syaoran."

Syaoran lifted one hand to his bruised cheek, hanging his head. "I'll remember."


	79. Gathered

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Syaoran didn't sleep well that night.

It wasn't the soreness in his cheek. The throbbing ache had subsided and his vampire blood had healed him. Truthfully, Seishirou hadn't hit him very hard. Only hard enough to get his point across.

_Only hard enough to ruin everything, _he thought, eyelids sliding open. He'd taken his pills hours ago, and had been curled up in his sleeping bag on the floor ever since, waiting for the moment he could fall asleep. But he couldn't keep his eyes closed.

He remembered sleepless nights. He'd had his share of them in Infinity, when he'd still been dreaming of the Other. When sleep had ceased to be a reprieve, he'd done his best to avoid it. Having pills to keep the nightmares away was a luxury that afforded him a few extra hours of sleep at night—a luxury, he decided, he might be better off without.

_I've had it too easy these past few weeks, _he thought, curling up tighter and pulling the slippery blankets around him. _Sleeping in, no nightmares, not getting seriously hurt . . . It's been so easy, it doesn't seem real. _

He closed his eyes again. Dwelling on his time away from the others wouldn't get him to sleep any faster. But he still couldn't quiet his mind.

It had taken a moment to process the fact that Seishirou had slapped him, and even now, Syaoran couldn't quite believe it. Up until Outo, the dark-haired man had never raised a hand against him or the Other. And he'd only killed the Other in Outo because that was a made-up world, where the consequences brought on by death were not as severe as they were in reality.

But this _was _reality, and Seishirou had really hit him.

Syaoran tried to reason through it. Yes, he'd provoked the older man. But even so, the whole situation had been handled poorly. Kurogane-san never would have hit him. Neither would Fujitaka-san. There were dozens of ways Seishirou could've handled it, all of them better than what he'd done.

Syaoran crawled out of his sleeping bag and donned his day clothes. In less than a minute, he was outside, sitting at the edge of the field.

He dug in his pocket for the bolt he'd found in Cirrus. He was always careful to transfer the metal object into whatever he was wearing for the day, so much so that it had become a habit. He could no more leave it behind than he could've walked away from Sakura, if they somehow met again.

"So who's the girl?"

He leapt to his feet. The movement was probably too fast for a human, but he'd been trained to react for too long to just sit there. When he took in the face of his visitor, he relaxed. "Oh, hi Sadie." He frowned, processing her question now that he'd ascertained there was no danger. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

The blond girl frowned, then walked over to him. "You normally up at this hour?"

He sat back down. "No. Are you?"

"Not usually." She took a seat beside him, her eyes alight with curiosity. "You sure it's not about a girl?"

He sighed, cradling the bolt in his palms. "Maybe a little bit," he admitted. _Maybe a lot._

Sadie's voice softened. "Did you two break up?"

"We were never together."

"Oh." It was silent for a moment. Syaoran could almost hear the words at the tip of the girl's tongue, but he could see just as clearly that she was afraid to say them.

"She's not dead or anything," he told her. Sadie's shoulders collapsed in relief. "I just miss her, that's all. And the rest of my . . . family."

"Oh . . . Well, I'm sure they'd be real happy to have you back, wherever they are."

He bit his lip. "I don't think they would."

"Don't be silly! Of course they'd take you back, they're your family."

He shook his head. "I messed up pretty bad." _I don't deserve their forgiveness._

"Are all boys such idiots?" Sadie demanded suddenly, rising to her feet and taking several steps across the berry field. "If you've got a girl waiting for you back home, you've gotta go back to her. Otherwise she'll end up marrying someone else and moving on, and you'll be left alone."

_Alone. _The word echoed hollowly in his ears, like the dissonant chime of bells. The air around him suddenly felt cold. He looked down. "It's more complicated than that."

"Bullshit," Sadie said, and for a moment, Syaoran wondered if everyone in this world was going to remind him of Kurogane-san. "They'll be happy to see you again, no matter what. _Especially _if they've missed you as much as you miss them."

His fingers curled tighter around the screw. Moonlight glinted off the steel surface. _Fai said everyone missed me, back when we talked in Cirrus. Why would he say that unless it was the truth? And he helped me hunt, helped me stay in control of the bloodlust. He said I could come back . . . _Syaoran wrapped his arms around his torso.

"I'm going back inside," Sadie said. "But you should think about going back. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you."

"Yeah . . ." he whispered, too quietly for the girl to hear as she walked back to the house. "Maybe."

* * *

><p>The wooden swords met with a crash.<p>

"You're still telegraphing your moves," Kurogane said, moving to block the princess's next strike. The practice swords struck each other again, and he deflected the brunt of her attack.

It was rather like trying to spar with a kitten. The princess would approach, bold as a tiger, but when she struck, her attack was so weak it wouldn't have hurt even if he'd let it hit him. _Maybe the mage was onto something when he gave her that stupid nickname in Outo, _he thought, moving to counterattack. Too late, Sakura raised her fake sword to block the strike. The rounded tip of his stick struck her elbow, and she recoiled, falling backward.

Kurogane lowered his sword and extended a hand to help her up. "Your stances are getting better."

Surprise flashed across her face, as if she didn't think she'd heard right. Then the words sunk in and she smiled.

_No wonder the other kid fell in love with her, _he thought. _Her whole face changes when she smiles like that. _

Sakura took a fighting stance again, still glowing from the compliment. _Jeez, if I'd known it was that easy to make her happy, I would've said something a long time ago._ By tacit agreement, they continued their practice. It wasn't quite sparring. Sparring implied that both parties were near enough to the same level to fight each other fairly. But it was close. _Maybe if the boy ever comes back . . ._

He banished the thought from his mind. For them, at least, it had been months since they'd seen the brat in Cirrus. Longer than the time he and the wizard had been forced together in Shura. While there was a chance the boy might return, it was unwise to plan for it when time passed so differently between dimensions. _If he intends to come back at all . . ._

They went on practicing until the sun fell from the sky. In this world, the sun turned sapphire whenever it got close to the horizon. The same went for the moon. From what he'd been told, some great power had sparked a change in the environment that made the sun turn blue. Here, they called it the Mist.

They'd landed in this world two weeks ago, over forty miles from the feather. With pockets of population spread so thin over this area, and the suspicious nature of their party, they'd been unable to secure any horses for transport. They'd been walking three miles every day toward the source of the Mist, but since the feather's effect seemed largely inert, most of those days were spent working on the princess's sword skills.

_And good thing, otherwise I'd have to listen to the magician every waking hour of the day, _Kurogane thought, parrying another clumsy attack.

The princess was breathing hard with exertion, though he'd only been halfway paying attention to blocking. He brought his fake sword around and hit the joint between her thumb and her wrist. The sword dropped from her hands.

"We're done for the night," he said, more out of habit than any real need to stop. The sun had set, and the mage was making dinner in one of the soup pots they'd acquired during their travels.

Sakura nodded, extending one hand in a silent request. He gave her his practice sword and watched her walk back over to their supplies and wrap them up. In a way, she was just as diligent as Syaoran, despite being born into nobility.

"We'll reach the canyon by tomorrow," Fai announced as they gathered around the fire.

Sakura nodded. The smile she'd worn a few minutes ago had vanished.

"Finally," Kurogane said. "We landed so far away, it's a wonder we're going to get there at all."

"Mokona tries!" the white creature cried. "But Mokona can't always get close to the feather on the first try."

Kurogane took the bowl of chili the mage offered him and started eating. About three bites in, the white pork bun squeaked, eyes opening wide.

"What is it?" Sakura asked, her voice almost as high as the long-eared creature's squeak.

"Mokona felt a big wave from just beyond the canyon!"

"Another feather?" Fai asked, eyebrows disappearing behind his hair.

Kurogane rose to his feet, the realization piercing through him like a sword. He said only two words, but those were enough to derail everyone's confusion. "The boy."


	80. Sobbed

Chapter Eighty

"Syaoran's in this world?" Sakura cried, shooting to her feet. A dull ache sprouted in her leg, but she was too preoccupied to notice.

"One of them," Fai said quietly.

"Either way, he'll be headed toward the feather." Kurogane downed another spoonful of his food, tilting the bowl toward his lips to swallow as much as possible. "We've got to get there and head him off."

"And then what?" Fai asked.

"That'll depend on which one it is."

Sakura's body went numb. _Depends on . . . But how? What are they going to do? _"We can't hurt him," she whispered. "Neither one of him."

The others glanced at her, expressions grim. But when they turned away without responding, her whole body turned to ice. _They're going to hurt him. They really are. Depending on which one we meet. Unless they mean to hurt both the clone and the original. But Kurogane-san said he hoped Syaoran would come back. He meant the real one, but . . . _Her vision blurred.

Behind her, she heard the sound of the tent poles falling apart. Fai usually took down camp in the morning, but now they were both tearing it down in their haste to move forward.

_If it's the Syaoran who started this journey with us . . . They consider him a threat after what happened in Tokyo. They might even kill him. But if it's the Syaoran who was imprisoned, they'll . . . What exactly? They clearly want him away from Seishirou, but then what? What if they label him a threat, too? _

_What if I lose both of them? _

Panic constricted her lungs. A whimper rose from her throat.

No one seemed to notice. Steam rose from the fire pit with a _hiss_ as Fai poured river water over it. Mokona swallowed a bundle of tent poles. Kurogane slung their traveling pack over his shoulders.

Sakura fainted.

The next thing she remembered was the feeling of blades of grass tickling her cheek as someone lifted her from the ground. "Come on, we've got to get going," Kurogane said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"No."

"No?" That was Fai, peering over the ninja's shoulders.

"We can't hurt him!" She struggled to get free. The arms holding her up turned into restraints.

"Sakura-chan, we have to go."

"The mage is right."

_Wow, this must really be serious if they're agreeing on something, _she thought hazily. "You can't hurt him. Neither one."

There was a sigh. For a moment, it was quiet. Kurogane let her down.

"So?" she asked. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

"It depends on which one it is," the ninja repeated. "If it's the one who left us in Infinity, we'll try to reason with him. If it's the Other . . ."

She shuddered at the way he said the word. As if it was a title. Like her Syaoran wasn't good enough to have a real name.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again. "No."

"I'm going," Kurogane said. "If you're not going, you can stay here with the mage."

Fai opened his mouth to protest. A glare from the ninja made his reply stick in his throat.

_It was the same in Infinity. Kurogane-san was set on going the minute he found out Syaoran had gone over to Seishirou. He didn't even consider staying put. And all I did was sit there, waiting for them to bring him back. I was weak and helpless, and I just let them take care of it._

_And Syaoran didn't come back. _She sniffed, an ache forming in her throat as she fought against the sobs.

"If it's the Other . . . You don't have to watch. We'll deal with it."

She shook her head. "Don't call him that."

"What the hell do you expect me to call him? We need some way to distinguish—"

"Don't call him that! His name is Syaoran! He was with us from the very beginning. He was—" A sob broke off her sentence, and she doubled over, pressing her hand tight to her mouth.

"I'll stay with her," Fai said quietly. Sakura glared at him.

"Good," the ninja said. "I'll be at the canyon until he shows up."

_Well? _part of her mind demanded. _Crying didn't work. What are you going to do now? _She let out another shaky sob. Fai rested one hand on her wrist and guided her into his arms. She shoved against his chest as hard as she could. The movement must've taken him by surprise, because he stumbled back, arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance.

She lifted her eyes, still moist with nascent tears, up to the ninja's face. "I'm coming with."

Kurogane looked at her for a long moment, gauging her sincerity, then gave a nod of approval. "Let's get going then."

* * *

><p>The sun rose like a glowing sapphire on the horizon.<p>

Syaoran watched it crawl up into the sky and turn yellow. It seemed that once it was past a certain point, the concentration of Mist in the atmosphere became insufficient to change its color._ This might be the last time Sapphirine sees a sunrise like this, _he thought, sighing.

"You're up early," a voice said. Syaoran stiffened, but didn't turn.

"I'm always up this early."

Seishirou sat down beside him, smiling at the sun as the last bit of blue faded from it. "This is the last world we'll be traveling together."

Syaoran looked up sharply, but said nothing.

"When I asked the witch to save my brother, she told me I would have to journey to a world where mist rises from a rift in the ground and shatters the sunrise. For a while, I thought she was talking nonsense. But I've seen a great variety of worlds in my life. Why should I scoff at something strange? It's rather hypocritical of me, when I'm telling you of worlds you've never seen and probably consider strange."

"My father said that every culture had subjects or events that were confusing or taboo to other cultures. People are all different, and so communities are different. The same goes for different worlds. You can't judge whether a world is strange or not, because to the people living in it, it's always been that way."

Seishirou looked at him for a long moment, the smile fading from his face. "Your father was a wise man. Even if he wasn't really your father." The older man turned his attention back to the sun. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry I hit you."

Syaoran stiffened, one hand going unconsciously to his cheek. His gaze strayed to his feet. "It doesn't matter now. If this is the last world we'll be together, there's no sense in dwelling on it."

"I just wanted you to know, before . . . before we part."

Curiosity made him look up. His mentor had never spoken with such hesitance before.

"We have to bring Fuuma with us today. The prices will only work out if he's nearby. And I want to be close, when he wakes up . . ."

"The prices . . . Will you tell me what they are?"

The older man sighed. _Maybe he really _is _sorry for last night, _Syaoran thought. _I've never seen him so solemn. _"It will cost me very dearly," Seishirou said. "But I am willing to pay the price. Fuuma is human, and young. He has a long life to live. I will pay any price to ensure he lives it."

Syaoran nodded. He knew what that was like. Agreeing to a price without hesitation, without even considering what it was. _The Other paid his price when he gave up his relationship with Sakura. And I gave up the same when I turned back time for her. _

Seishirou spoke, still grave. "You truly are a remarkable student. You have honor, but you also know how to care for another person. You learn quickly. You don't complain. You're smart and resourceful, and you're able to face whatever the world throws at you without faltering." Seishirou rested a hand on his head and tousled his hair, just as he'd done in Infinity. "You are . . . an infinitely better person than I am. And wherever you go after this, I know you'll do the right thing."

He took a deep breath, trying to overcome his surprise. _Honor? He thinks I'm a good person? _"I . . . Thank you."

A new voice called out from the highest terrace. "Hey! Are we going to get going or what?"

Seishirou looked up at the farmer and stood. "I just have to grab my brother, and we'll be off."

_This will be the last world we travel together, _Syaoran thought, watching the man glide up the stepped fields. _Wherever I land afterwards is up to fate._


	81. Descended

Chapter Eighty-One

A pale violet haze rose from the crevasse, like the breath of a demon.

"Hyuu," the mage sang. Kurogane looked over in annoyance. Somehow, the sound was even more annoying now that he knew the wizard could actually whistle. "That's far. How will we get down there?"

The princess walked up to the rift. She came so close to the edge that Kurogane reflexively stepped forward to stop her. "There are stairs," the girl said, her voice strangely monotone.

"It's a _canyon_, how the hell could there be—" He broke off as he reached the edge. Just a few feet below, a narrow series of sculpted indents jutted out from the wall, evenly spaced and in decent repair. Stairs.

"They go to the bottom," Sakura said, still sounding half-asleep. "A team of excavators built them on both sides so they could come and go freely without having to wait for the lift."

It was silent for a moment as they stared at her. _It's just like Infinity, _the ninja thought, remembering how she'd known where to the emergency exit despite it being hidden behind another door. _She knows things it doesn't make sense for her to know. _

"Guess we're going down there, then," Fai said.

Kurogane walked closer to the edge, then dropped the four feet it took to get to the first platform. "Stay close to the wall. There aren't any railings."

"Oh, Kuro-puu is taking care of us."

He glanced up sharply. "What the hell did you just call me?"

A startled look crossed the mage's face, as if he hadn't realized his slip. After a moment, his face went curiously blank. "Nothing, Kurogane."

He glared up at the mage for a long moment, then started down the stairs, keeping one hand on the wall.

They descended in silence. The stairs were narrow in places, and some were chipped along the edges, as if stones had fallen down on them from above and damaged them. But Kurogane noticed something, as they traveled deeper into the canyon—something that sent quivers of unease through his bones.

The Mist was getting thicker.

The hand that wasn't tracing the wall rested lightly on Souhi's hilt, as if he could combat the thickening fog with a swipe of his sword. The disquiet in him grew the longer they walked.

In Nihon, only the demons beyond the border wards could elicit such unease from him. Then, he'd brushed it off as a psychological effect brought on by his trauma— something to be endured, something to serve as a warning against oncoming threats. But he'd felt the same tension in Outo, when he and the boy had gone off fighting demons for money. The subtle _wrongness_. "Mage, do you sense anything?" he asked.

For once, the wizard wasn't smiling. "Something," he agreed. "I don't know what."

"Mokona doesn't like this Mist," the white creature piped up. Fai rested a hand on the creature's head, still frowning.

"The things in the Mist . . . They're crying."

At that, everyone paused and turned to Sakura. The princess stared dreamily into the bluish haze.

"Let's keep moving," Kurogane said. It had been a long time since he'd disliked a place so much as this canyon. The sooner they retrieved the feather, the better.

They walked a few minutes more, their footsteps the only sound in the canyon. The Mist grew so thick that if he'd pointed Souhi out in front of him, he wouldn't have been able to see the tip of the blade.

"It's kind of eerie, isn't it?" Fai said.

Eerie. Off-balance. _Wrong_. Everything about this place was wrong.

It wasn't until an inhuman shriek tore through the air that Kurogane realized why.

* * *

><p>Syaoran had known something was wrong with this canyon from the moment he'd peered over the edge and seen the blanket of Mist. But it wasn't until he saw the first body that he began to panic.<p>

He stumbled over it by accident, losing his footing as his heel came down on the rounded end of a femur. If Seishirou hadn't caught him by the arm and yanked him back, he might've tumbled down the stairs and into the abyss. As if the near-fatal fall hadn't been enough, he'd turned back to see what had tripped him and seen the corpse.

"Oh God," he whispered. Not out of shock, but because the sight before him merited some attention from a higher power.

"Bones," the farmer said, sounding shaken.

Seishirou knelt down beside the corpse, moving the ragged clothing out of the way to examine it. Syaoran wanted to look away, but his gaze wouldn't leave the body.

"They're old," his teacher said. "You can tell that from the bleached color they've got to them. But look here." He pointed to the femur Syaoran had tripped over. Dotting the leg were little indents, as if someone had taken a tiny pickaxe to the surface.

"Teeth marks," Syaoran whispered.

The farmer looked away. "Damn."

"And not just scavengers," Seishirou said, and Syaoran was glad he didn't explain the reason for his hypothesis.

"Who was he?"

"Who knows?" Seishirou turned to the farmer. "If you hope to return to your family, you may want to turn back now."

The man shook his head, looking as if he was about to throw up. "No. I want to find out what's doing this."

Seishirou pulled something from his coat pocket and moved it up to his face. _His glasses, _Syaoran thought, shivering. He'd only ever seen Seishirou don his glasses once before, and that had been when he'd fought Kurogane-san in Outo. _He's serious. This isn't a safe place. _

_We should leave._

He shook off the thought. He and Seishirou would part after this world. A few more hours of fear was a small price to pay to be done with this journey.

"Let's keep moving," Seishirou said.

They walked more cautiously now, keeping their eyes on the stone steps to avoid any disastrous falls. But now a deep silence pervaded their group. Even Seishirou, who was usually inclined to make cryptic remarks to stave off boredom, kept his mouth shut as he carried Fuuma deeper into the chasm.

Deep within the canyon, Syaoran heard something shriek. He knew it at once not to be a human voice, but there was an almost human quality to it, a sound that touched some primal fear in Syaoran and made a shudder run down his back.

"What was that?" he asked. His voice came out in a thin whisper.

Seishirou grinned at his panic, but quickly lost the expression. He didn't answer.

They passed two more bodies shortly after, reduced to bones just as the first. Both were lying facedown, having fallen where they'd died. Judging from the direction their bodies were pointing, they'd been heading up the stairs when something had felled them from behind. Running from something.

_But what? _Syaoran wondered. _That thing that was screeching earlier? Or something else? _A shiver ran down his back.

"Best keep going," his teacher said. Syaoran realized he'd stopped to stare at the bodies.

"Right," he said, gingerly stepping over the pair. A rope of golden hair, tied back in a braid, marked one of the corpses as female.

The Mist got thicker as they went down. The change was almost as unnerving as the pervasive silence. Moreover, the stairs themselves were losing their definition. A few minutes ago, every step had been neatly carved, the edges perfect lines. Now, the steps were cracked and chipped, as if the abundance of Mist had accelerated their eventual decay. _Like every step we take is another year of damage done, _he thought, wrapping his arms around his torso. As he did so, he realized for the first time that the temperature had dropped.

_It's cold, _he thought, fingers tightening around his sleeves. _The further we descend, the colder it gets. _His eyes slid over to the others. Seishirou wore an uneasy frown, and his hands were tight around Fuuma's arms, as if he was clutching the man closer for warmth. Bob, the farmer, seemed unaffected by the drop in temperature, despite the light T-shirt he wore. _It's not a natural chill, _Syaoran thought. _I shouldn't feel cold like this, not since Seishirou turned me into a vampire. So why am I so cold? _

"There's something wrong with this place," he said, looking up at his teacher for some sort of validation.

Seishirou only nodded and said, "I know."


	82. Attacked

Chapter Eighty-Two

"Get down!" Kurogane shouted, and though Fai was not accustomed to following orders without reason, the command was so forceful that he obeyed immediately.

It was a good thing, too, because a fraction of a second later, something smashed into the wall just a foot away from where his head had been. He looked up, eyesight sharpening as his body transformed.

At first glance, the creature appeared to be some sort of prehistorical bird. The membrane of its wings were like those of a bat, but the ruffled plumage on the creature's neck and legs suggested otherwise. The tail was long and featherless, like that of a reptile. For one wild moment, Fai thought it was all those things, mashed into one. And then the creature pulled its head from the rock and the pieces resolved into one picture.

The dragon shrieked again, and swiped at him with its claws. Fai jerked back, and had to dance away from the edge of the stairs to keep from falling. A deep hiss emanated from the little dragon as it craned its neck to bite.

A flash of silver filled Fai's vision, followed by splotches of red. It took him a moment to realize that Kurogane had used Souhi to behead the creature.

"That was—"

"Shut up," the ninja snarled, turning his head in every direction to search for more threats. Fai didn't really see the point. Even with his sharpened eyesight, he couldn't see more than a few feet into the bluish haze. Kurogane almost certainly couldn't see far enough to detect any oncoming threats. _Then again, he doesn't _need_ to see to detect such threats._

Sakura knelt down beside the dead creature, his lips slipping into a frown. Fai watched, waiting for her to say something. But after a moment, she stood up and looked down the steps with a grim expression.

Kurogane made a frustrated sound and relaxed from his crouch. "I can't sense these things."

_Oh, _Fai thought, feeling as if the stairs had turned to air under his feet. _That's not good. _

"No," Sakura said softly. "Because they're ghosts in this world."

Their group was silent for a moment. Finally, Kurogane sighed. "Come on. The sooner we find the feather, the sooner this fog will lift."

They started forward again, moving more quickly down the stone steps. Occasionally, Kurogane would stop, his whole body rigid, his hand going to his sword. Silence would descend on them for a few seconds, then they'd move forward without a word.

The stairs seemed to go on for miles, and Fai wondered if there was truly a bottom to this canyon, or if the rift was bottomless. With magic running so thick in the air, the possibility seemed much more likely than he wanted to believe.

But there was a bottom, and as they neared it, the Mist cleared somewhat. Being able to see, however, only made things worse.

A moss-like substance coated the ground, giving off a faint luminescence. Unlike normal moss, however, it was cobalt blue, as if the Mist had concentrated here on the bottom to form a solid substance. More disturbing than any of that however, was the way it moved—like grass rippling in the breeze, except the air down here was stagnant.

"Do you think this is what's giving off the Mist?" he asked, nudging the squishy stuff with the toe of his shoe.

"Looks like it. Hey, manju, which way to the feather?"

Mokona peeked out of Fai's shirt, ears flat against her back, and pointed. "That way. It's close."

The ninja nodded and started out across the see of blue. The moss made squishing sounds under his feet.

"There are hundreds of ghosts here," Sakura whispered, looking around. She didn't seem _anxious_, exactly, just . . . alert.

"Are they friendly?" Fai asked.

Sakura frowned. "Not all of them." She rested a hand lightly on her sword, keeping her eyes on the path. The motion made Fai's breath catch in his throat.

_I must truly be drifting away from them if I can't even read Sakura anymore, _he thought, frowning at her easy reliance on the weapon. She scanned the area for threats, just as Kurogane was doing a few feet ahead. And when both of them recognized a threat approaching from the sides, they drew their weapons.

"Stay behind me," Kurogane ordered, stepping between them and the threat. As Fai looked up to examine their enemy, he caught sight of a dozen feathered monsters slicing through the air. _This seems like an awfully normal world to have such strange creatures, _he thought, claws coming out as he prepared to face any that slipped past the ninja's guard.

None did. The ninja called out some attack Fai's language had no translation for. White light poured from his blade and shredded the dragons apart. Bloody chunks fell into the moss.

"This world seemed so normal on the surface," Fai said. "But it has its dangers, too, it seems."

Sakura shook her head. "This place was not originally part of this world. It's a shard of another world, that came into this world and gathered around one of my feathers."

Kurogane glanced back at her. "How do you know so much about this place?"

She shrugged. "It's not _familiar _to me, but it's . . . Somehow the energy is different, between this place and the rest of Sapphirine. The sounds of their cries are different." Her eyes drifted to the chunks of flesh. "Look."

Fai looked and saw how the flesh had liquefied where it had landed. "They're dissolving."

She nodded. "The creatures stay down here so that when they die, their bodies go to feed the moss. And they can't fly out of here because they need a certain concentration of Mist to survive. At least, I think that's it."

Fai nodded. The explanation made sense to him. Kurogane just shook his head like he couldn't believe they were talking about this.

By tacit agreement, they started moving forward again. After a while, the canyon narrowed. They could have walked shoulder-to-shoulder, but it would've been a tight fit, and impaired their fighting abilities if more monsters had come to attack. The passage suddenly opened up, and they reached a massive, circular expanse, overflowing with the cobalt blue plants. At the center of the room, a stone pedestal rose from the ground, giving off an unearthly light. And at the center of that light was one of Sakura's feathers.

* * *

><p>It was near the bottom that they first encountered the dragons.<p>

Seishirou reacted before he could, shredding one of them apart with his claws. Two more followed in quick succession, screeching like the first. Syaoran snatched one by the neck and slammed it into the wall, splattering blood across the smooth stone and killing it. Seishirou took out the other, first snapping its neck, then trampling it underfoot.

The farmer stared as if he'd just witnessed a train wreck. His face was as pale as moonlight on a sand dune. His breath came in ragged gasps, as if the Mist itself was choking him. "What—What are you?"

Syaoran realized his claws had come out. He withdrew them, suddenly panicked. What if this man started screaming? What if he brought a hunting party down here to wipe them off the face of the earth?

"We're vampires," Seishirou said, smiling. "Which is lucky, because these things that just attacked us would be quite difficult to deal with if we were mere humans."

Syaoran bristled at the last part. "Mere humans" sounded so arrogant. Even if humans weren't as physically strong, certainly they were worth the same as vampires. Perhaps more, given that vampires couldn't survive without their prey. _And Sakura is human . . ._

The farmer swayed, as if he were about to faint. And then he was pointing his rifle at Seishirou's chest. "Stay back!" he shouted. "I will not be influenced by your unholy compulsion."

Seishirou pushed the gun aside, a catlike grin crossing his face. "You really shouldn't have done that."

"No!" Syaoran shouted, realizing what his teacher was about to do. But the exclamation came too late. Seishirou ripped the gun from the man's hands and took hold of his shoulder, shifting Fuuma so he slumped off to the side.

With one smooth motion, Seishirou shoved the farmer off the stairs and into the depths of the chasm.


	83. Betrayed

Chapter Eighty-Three

"_No_!" Syaoran shrieked, his voice cracking as the farmer tumbled over the edge. The man's hand snaked out automatically, seeking help. Syaoran lunged forward, reaching for the man's wrist, praying his supernatural strength would be enough to keep the farmer from falling.

Seishirou snatched the hood of his shirt and yanked him back. The farmer's hand closed around thin air. His face went still. Syaoran watched in horror as the man fell backwards, limbs spreading out as his thin body careened through the air. He didn't even scream as he disappeared into the Mist.

A deep thud echoed through the canyon when the farmer hit the ground.

Syaoran rounded on his teacher, shocked exclamations exploding from his lips without filtering through the censor of his mind. "What the _fuck_ did you just _do_? H-he just—You—How could you do something so—"

"If I'd let him live, he'd be running up the canyon shouting 'vampire' to anyone with ears. Do you want that?"

"You didn't have to _kill _him! You just threw him off the steps like it was _nothing _and . . . and . . . He's _dead_, don't you understand that?"

Seishirou's voice was calm. "Yes, Little Wolf. I understand death. I wouldn't be here if I didn't understand death."

He looked down. "Fine. But I don't have to."

Shock flitted across Seishirou's face. "Don't have to what?"

"To be here. With you. I may not be able to stop you, but I won't help you anymore. You can save Fuuma yourself." He started back up the stairs, trying to ignore the nausea churning in his stomach. A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"You're not leaving."

"I am." He tried to shrug the hand off, but Seishirou had a good grip, and supernatural strength to back it up.

Syaoran shivered, as if someone had taken the tip of a feather and brushed it along his spine. "Let go!"

"You're not leaving, Little Wolf. Not when I'm so close to my goal."

Syaoran half-turned, and noticed how his teacher had laid Fuuma against the canyon wall. "I _am _leaving, and you're not going to stop me. I'm going back to my friends, and when I find them . . ."

"They'll do what? Track me down? Capture me? Bring me back to you so you can kill me yourself?"

The question brought him up short. What _would_ the others do about it? And what would he do about it, if they did bring him back?

"Or are you too craven to kill me yourself? You'd rather have the ninja do it, perhaps?"

"His name is Kurogane-san," Syaoran growled, the only form of protest he could think of.

"Regardless, you will not rejoin them until we're done with this."

"You gave me a choice," he retorted. "In Infinity, you gave me the choice to come with you. At my request, you didn't harm any of them, and you didn't pressure me to decide. So why is it so important _now_ that I'm at your side?"

"Because my brother is dying!" Seishirou exploded. "And you would do nothing less for your princess if she were in the same position."

"I wouldn't push someone to their death."

"You killed the ringmaster of that circus without a second thought. Why should someone who was in your way be any different?"

Syaoran recoiled. "He deserved to die. But this—"

"You and I are the same, Syaoran. Driven, relentless, stubborn. We have magic. We're vampires. We each have only one working eye. We are more alike than you will ever know."

"I am nothing like you."

There was a flash of movement in his peripheral vision, and suddenly, he felt his knee smash into the stone steps. Something pinned his arms behind his back, while something else wrapped tight around his throat, like a piece of cloth wound up until it was as thin and sturdy as rope. Syaoran struggled to breathe.

"You had a choice then," Seishirou whispered. "And you could have run away from me like you did from your so-called friends. But the simple fact, _Little Wolf_, is that you don't have a choice anymore. I can kill you just as easily as I killed the farmer, and if you betray me now, I will."

Seishirou held him down, as gray dots swarmed his field of vision. The cloth around his throat had forced his windpipe shut, cutting off any incoming oxygen. If the Mist hadn't already obscured everything in sight, Syaoran might've wondered why he couldn't see more than a few feet away.

The cloth rope was suddenly removed, and he gasped in a lungful of air. Tears ran in rivers down his cheeks. He made no move to stand.

"We don't have much farther to go," said the bespectacled man. "It would be better if you just go along with it."

Slowly, shakily, Syaoran got to his feet. His neck ached fiercely, and his eyes stung with the deluge of saltwater. Seishirou gave him a few moments to gain his bearings, then gestured for him to continue down the stairs.

The rest of their passage crept by uneasily. If there had ever been any reason or routine to their journey, this last argument had shattered it. Though Syaoran never looked back for confirmation, he could feel the dark-haired man's gaze crawling across the back of his neck, waiting for the moment he might turn to fight.

_A futile fight, _he reminded himself, ignoring the temptation. _Even now, Seishirou is far more skilled in close combat than I am. Skilled enough to fight Kurogane-san to a draw . . . No, I would die if I tried to fight him. _

His legs carried him to the bottom of the stairs. He breathed a sigh of relief when the ground leveled out, then recoiled when his foot came down on something squishy. "Ugh."

Syaoran glanced up at Seishirou, looking for some signal to continue. The man stared at the wall, seeming disinterested in the condition of the floor. _I hope he slips and cracks his skull open, _Syaoran thought, moving across the carpet of moss.

Seishirou didn't slip. Instead, he spoke. "See where the canyon narrows? We're going that way."

He kept walking, not bothering to respond to the command. If he was reading the man correctly, he'd gone from a student to a prisoner.

"Interesting," Seishirou said suddenly.

"What?"

The man smiled. "You'll find out when we get there."

_Yes, heaven forbid you tell me anything important. _He kept walking, scanning every shadow for potential threats. But despite the monster that had attacked them on the steps, this part of the canyon seemed devoid of life, as if someone had exterminated the creatures that had attacked them higher up.

The passage opened up suddenly, into a massive, circular chamber. Unlike the rest of the canyon, though, this room overflowed with architectural marvels—pedestals carved of stone, some radiating light like the moss at his feet. Patterns and pictures were etched into the walls, telling stories he could've spent weeks piecing together if he'd had time. But none of that mattered, because there were people in this room.

"It would seem your friends are here, after all," Seishirou said, setting Fuuma on a carpet of moss. At his voice, everyone turned to them. Sakura, Fai, Kurogane . . . Even Mokona peeked out of Fai's shirt to look.

Syaoran took half a step forward. A hand coiled around his arm, just below the shoulder, and pulled him back. "Stay here, Little Wolf."

"Hey!" Kurogane yelled across the expanse. His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the silence.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," Seishirou responded, stepping in front of Syaoran. For a moment, he considered summoning his sword and driving it through the dark-haired man's back. But a warning glance froze him in place.

"You always run off before we finish our fights," Kurogane said, resting the dull side of Souhi's blade on his shoulder. The posture seemed relaxed, but Syaoran knew just how fast that could change.

"I apologize, but I simply don't have time to waste fighting someone like you."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Seishirou smiled. "I've got more important priorities. Now, would you mind stepping away from that pedestal? I need what's inside."

The ninja shifted into a fighting stance. "There's only one person I take orders from, and it's not you."

"What a pity." Threads of darkness twisted around Seishirou's hands, wrapping around themselves and taking shape. A moment later, he held a sword. "I'm afraid we'll have to finish our fight for real this time."

Syaoran tensed. "Wait. We can settle this another way."

Seishirou threw him a sly smile. "No."

And that was when all hell broke loose.


	84. Reasoned

Chapter Eighty-Four

Seishirou doubled back and wrapped an arm around Syaoran's throat.

"What are you doing?" Syaoran demanded, before his trachea collapsed for the second time in ten minutes.

"Using you to my advantage," Seishirou hissed in his ear. Still clutching his throat, Seishirou addressed the others. "If you would step aside, please."

"Like hell!" Kurogane shouted. "Drop him."

The arm tightened around Syaoran's throat. _I have to do something, or I'm going to get killed for real. _He closed his eyes, bringing his magic to his hands. Flames licked up between his fingertips as he summoned his sword.

"None of that," Seishirou said, snatching his wrist. His fingertips must've hit a pressure point because Syaoran's hand went numb. His sword clattered to the ground. "Now let's work out a trade, shall we?"

The others were closer now. Syaoran opened his eyes to see Fai and Kurogane twenty feet away. Sakura alone hung back, eyes wide. "Syaoran-kun!"

"_Drop _him," Kurogane snarled. He'd fallen into a fighting stance. "Or I'll kill you both."

_He can't mean it, _Syaoran thought, redoubling his struggles. _He can't think I'm party to this._

_Of course he can. You betrayed them. _His fingers wound uselessly around Seishirou's arms, claws digging into flesh as he fought to break free. The arm loosened enough to let him breathe, and he managed to squeak out one word. "Kurogane-san—"

The ninja's eyes flashed to his for just a second, and they shared a wordless communication. Kurogane lowered his sword. "What did you plan to do with the boy?"

"I needed him to help save Fuuma."

"You needed him specifically?"

Syaoran knew enough of Seishirou to know he was smirking. "I didn't. But I already knew him from Clow, and you all seemed more than willing to abandon him."

Black smudges, spawned by the lack of oxygen, obscured the glowing moss around him. Syaoran began to wonder if Seishirou had forgotten he needed to breathe.

And then he felt the steel edge resting against his throat. "He's useless to me after this world," Seishirou said. "You can have him back when I'm done."

Syaoran felt the barest flutter of magic next to his face. A second later, the arm released him, and he heard Seishirou's sword clatter to the ground. Syaoran staggered away, gasping for air. As soon as he was out of Seishirou's reach, he heard Kurogane calling something in some other language. _An attack, _Syaoran thought wildly. _That's one of the only things Mokona doesn't translate._

White light filled the massive room, blinding him.

As his lungs filled with oxygen, his head began to clear. The flutter of magic he'd felt before had been familiar, but given the reaction it had prompted from Seishirou, it was not the dark-haired man's magic. Syaoran was pretty sure he hadn't done anything either. _So that leaves Fai, _he thought, turning to look at the place where Kurogane's attack had landed.

Chips of stone had broken off from the wall in the blast, leaving a massive, circular indent where the attack had landed. _No one__ couldn't have survived that, _Syaoran thought. A moment later, a voice pierced through the air.

"That was a close one," Seishirou called from halfway across the room.

_Of course he'd survive that, _Syaoran thought wearily, letting his claws slide out.

"It seems I've upset you, Little Wolf."

"Don't call me that."

The bespectacled man swept on. "I know, I should have warned you ahead of time, but your reaction wouldn't have been as authentic."

_Was he always like this? _Syaoran wondered, eyes flashing back to the sword that had fallen from his hands a moment ago. Its position on the ground had allowed it to escape the blast, but there was no way he could retrieve it before Seishirou intercepted him.

"You don't believe me?" Seishirou said in mock incredulity. "Syaoran, I'm stunned. Haven't I given you everything you've asked for, since we started traveling together?"

The words were mocking, but Syaoran couldn't ignore the flood of guilt they brought. _He put his and his brother's needs ahead of mine, but he still helped me. Teaching me how to shield my mind, how to survive. Giving me something to keep away the nightmares . . . _

"Don't listen to him!" Sakura yelled, tearing him from his guilt. He looked up to see her jade eyes shining with nascent tears. "Syaoran, don't listen to him, you belong with us!"

_She . . . called me by name._ He took half a step toward her, his breath catching in his throat. _Was it an accident? Is it because of the stress of the situation, or . . . _

"You don't owe him anything!" Kurogane yelled, almost glaring at him as he pointed his sword in Seishirou's direction. "So don't let that impact your actions anymore!"

"Come, Little Wolf. We have work to do."

Syaoran shook his head infinitesimally. Seishirou's glasses reflected the luminescence of the pedestal as he frowned.

"Won't you help me out, just one more time?" the dark-haired man asked.

Syaoran lifted his hand to his neck, fingertips probing the swollen spots of purple left by Seishirou's strangling fingers. "No."

Seishirou's eyes glinted with a dark light. His sword shivered under the force of his anger. "I was really hoping you wouldn't say that."

Something about the words—the cool, dangerous edge to his voice—sparked a rush of thought in Syaoran. Something was wrong here.

_Think. How does Seishirou _work_? How does he handle situations like this? _His mind flitted back to Infinity. _He burned down the Ephemeral Apartments, risked Sakura's life. Why? The way he explained it, it seemed like he thought I would agree to help him if the others were out of the way._

_But what if that wasn't it? What if he wasn't trying to kill them? If he knew ahead of time that they'd get out, there would've been no point in going after them in the first place. Unless he was manipulating me into a confrontation. Like he tried to do when he broke into our apartment. But why would he want to fight me? If we were allies . . . _He tilted his face up to the bespectacled man again. "There's something I don't understand."

Seishirou smirked. "Oh? Ask away."

"In the country of Infinity, you set fire to the Ephemeral Apartments. Why?"

"I told you, Syaoran. If they were out of the way, you would've been much more likely to join me. Isn't that true?"

He ignored the question, trying to work through his reasoning aloud. "And before that, when you broke into the apartment—your explanations were vague, like you were making them up just for the sake of having an explanation."

The others were watching him now; they hadn't been there for that, and he hadn't mentioned the bargain Seishirou had tried to strike then. _I'll worry about that later, _Syaoran thought. "Did you concoct those explanations just so I would go willingly? Were you planning on taking me against my will if I didn't?"

Seishirou smiled. "Such astute observations, Syaoran. That's just like you."

"And the first time I saw you in Infinity," he went on, trying to coax a genuine response out of the man. "Was that planned? Did you already know I was in Infinity? Were you trying to . . . What were you trying to _do_?"

"Actually, I didn't think of my plan until after that. But it turned out to be quite lucky that I happened across you right when I needed you."

"That still doesn't explain the rest of it!" Syaoran yelled, and for the first time, he realized his whole body was shaking under the weight of his frustration. He'd known from the beginning that Seishirou had kept things from him. That had been easy to accept—he'd had secrets, too. But, even now, even in the last world Seishirou needed him, the man had explained _nothing_—it was too much.

_I need to get control of myself, _he thought, forcing his fists to loosen. _I can't trust myself if I'm not in control of my emotions. _"And after Infinity," he went on, keeping his voice level. "Things were okay for a while. You treated me like I mattered, like I belonged. I had a purpose, even if I didn't know what it was. I never questioned you. Until Cirrus."

Syaoran watched Seishirou's face for a reaction. If he had one, his smile concealed it well. "That was when I started to question things. That was when I started to see you for what you were. Not a traitor—not like me. But you lied to me, in Infinity. You said you wouldn't try to hurt _them_." He jerked his chin toward the others, wishing they knew what he was talking about. "That was part of the deal. Yet we stayed there and fought. Why?"

"Why do you think, Syaoran?"

"I don't know! I don't know what you're trying to do, or what your price is, or how that involves me. What were you trying to make me do?"

Seishirou lost his smile. "Think hard, Syaoran. What did I teach you, about your magic? About all magic?"

He would've erupted again, except his mind was busy going over everything Seishirou had taught him. He'd improved his range and accuracy with spells, learned how to control them and how to enhance them, but he was almost positive those weren't the things Seishirou had meant. _How does Seishirou work? _he wondered again. _He's always trying to get into people's heads, trying to toy with their emotions, manipulate them to his advantage. I saw that when we arrived in Sapphirine. Is it possible that was his goal all along? Not to enlist my help in something, but to manipulate me into something I wouldn't normally do?_

_Think. What else did he teach me about magic? _

"My, it doesn't seem like you're getting it," Seishirou said. "Well, it doesn't really matter if you understand. All I need are results."

His movement was almost too fast for Syaoran's eyes to track. Certainly faster than the humans in the room could follow. Before anyone could react to his sudden movement, he had Sakura by the waist, his sword pressed against her throat.


	85. Blocked

Chapter Eighty-Five

Just like in Cirrus, Syaoran reacted without thinking. The magic was at his fingertips before he knew what to do with it, and by the time the lightning exploded from his body, he was in a panic.

Seishirou was quick; he released Sakura and fled to the other side of the room. Meanwhile, Sakura stood, the spell reflecting in her wide eyes. _No, _Syaoran thought. _No, no, no . . . _

His mind processed the next second in such minute detail that it seemed to stretch out for minutes. Distantly, he was aware of Seishirou moving across the chasm, perching beside Fuuma. On some level, he was even able to process the startled reactions of Kurogane-san and Fai-san. They'd both taken a step toward Sakura, horror changing their faces as they realized they couldn't save her.

Even supernatural speed could not get them there in time to deflect the blast.

_I can't make it, _he thought, though his legs were already in motion, already pushing him toward the spot where the spell would land. The bolt left him half-blind, but there was no mistaking the insurmountable distance.

Far, far above, a dragon screeched.

Fire bloomed in a massive cloud where the spell hit, an explosion that released a shockwave strong enough to knock loose the smaller pebbles embedded in the canyon wall. "_Sakura!_" someone screamed. It took him a moment to realize the screech had come from his damaged throat. _No, no, not Sakura, not my Sakura . . . Please, not her . . . Not now. _

The shockwave knocked him off his feet. In his panic, he didn't even have to presence of mind to land properly. His jaw cracked against the stone floor, the force of his impact uprooting the thin layer of blue moss that might have otherwise cushioned the landing. His perception of direction and time shattered, and he couldn't tell whether he was still on the ground or if he was flying.

Echoes of the explosion reverberated through the canyon, drowning out the shouts of the others. The bombardment of sound further disoriented him, so that when he tried to sit up, the world spun sickeningly around him.

_Sakura . . . _he thought, head tilting to look at the epicenter of the explosion. He didn't _want_ to look, didn't want to see what he would surely see there. It would break him. Where all the cold glares of Infinity had failed, where the pressing silence of the canyon had failed, where Seishirou's recent torments had failed . . . Losing Sakura would break him.

But he looked. He looked for the same reason people slowed down and looked out of their cars to see an accident. Because he had to.

At first, the images made no sense. Everywhere, the stone had been cleared of moss. Much of the floor had been chipped away in the explosion, as well. But there was one patch of deep blue just where his spell should have struck, in tact except for some superficial damage. On that patch of moss, there was a figure—slight and light in color and _impossible_, because anyone at the center of that blast should've been so damaged that their remains would have to be scraped off the stone.

But there she was. Eyes shut tight, her cheap sword held rigid and cracked in front of her, shoulders strained. Alive.

"Sakura . . ." he whispered, reaching across the vast expanse of the room, as if he could touch her from where he lay. At the sound of her name, her eyes flashed open, and her head whipped around to look at him.

If it was possible to have a conversation without words, one occurred between them then. He begged forgiveness with his eyes—forgiveness for this near-disaster, and for the pains he'd put her through prior to this moment. She nodded once, in recognition of his apology. And then her face turned toward their enemy in a silent reminder of what they had to do now.

"I'm impressed," Seishirou called to Sakura. The lightheartedness in his tone was so alien to Syaoran's current train of thought that he almost missed the words. "You used your sword to shield yourself from the spell. That ninja must be a gifted teacher."

Most of the disorientation had faded from his mind now. Syaoran stood and moved half a step closer to Sakura. His ears rang as he yelled across the room. "Enough. We're going to do this right."

Seishirou cocked his head to the side. "Oh?"

Syaoran took another step toward Sakura, putting himself in a position from which he could defend her. Magic tingled in his fingertips as he called his sword back to him. It slid across the mossy floor and flew up into his hands. "New deal," Syaoran said. "We fight, one-on-one. If you win, I'll do whatever you ask of me. If I win, you leave us alone."

"And what would constitute winning, in this situation?"

"We fight until one of us surrenders."

Seishirou smiled, but there was a bitter edge to it, this time. "You truly are more honorable than I. Very well. But I warn you: I won't hold back."

Syaoran nodded, then turned his head just far enough to see Sakura. "Go with Kurogane-san and Fai-san. Get out of this canyon. I'll bring the feather back to you when I'm done."

Sakura hesitated, then sheathed her sword. "Come back to me. Whatever happens, come back to me when you win."

The words pierced him like a blade. His throat closed up, sealing off any words he might have said in response.

So he nodded in a silent promise: _I'll come back this time._

Sakura ran, crossing the damaged floor where the explosion had destroyed the surface layer of rocks. Syaoran waited until she was with the others before daring to raise his eyes.

Fai took hold of Sakura and started guiding her out of the room as fast as he could. Kurogane stood at the mouth of the exit for a long moment, his gaze steady. He nodded once, then followed the others out.

Syaoran turned to Seishirou and raised his sword.

"When you said surrender," the dark-haired man began, his tone questioning. "did you mean until one of us dies?"

"If that's what it takes." He shifted into a fighting stance, ready to defend or dodge an attack at any moment.

"You must care deeply for her, to exchange your safety for hers."

"I do."

"And of course, you know how much I value my brother's life." Seishirou nodded to the unconscious man behind him.

"I'm aware."

"You understood the two could never be reconciled, so you chose this method to decide for you."

"Yes."

"Honorable," Seishirou breathed. "Right to the very end." He looked up again, his black sword rippling in his fingertips.

Syaoran made the first move, channeling magic through his sword. "Raitei Shourai!" he called, letting loose a blast of energy similar to the spell he'd used a few minutes ago.

Seishirou lunged forward, intercepting the blow with his demon sword and knocking the brunt of the blast aside. A fraction of a second later, their swords met, steel against magic. The dark-haired man's sword was made of no metal found naturally. Since he'd picked it up in Outo, though, it was reasonable to assume it was made of nothing but concentrated darkness. _I'm fighting a shadow, _Syaoran thought as the other man's sword bent and wrapped around his. He jerked his own blade away before it could be ensnared, then let loose a second attack.

Seishirou moved with him, bringing his arm in, then down, as a slave master might wield a whip. The blade moved like one. Syaoran dodged.

The shape-shifting whip carved a deep path in the stone where he'd been standing. Syaoran repressed a shudder at the thought of what the weapon might've done against flesh and bone. _He's really going all out in this fight. I can't hold back._

He held his sword up to defend against the next blow, pouring magic into the blade to help it stave off his teacher's attacks. Seishirou's blade collided with his once, twice, three times, driving him back with each impact. At a break in the other man's rhythm, Syaoran called out another spell, different from his attack spells. "Fuuka Shourai!"

The air spun around him in a bubble, separating him from the other man and giving him a second to recuperate. He retreated back, calling his magic to his sword again. Before the wind barrier subsided, he sent another lightning attack toward his mentor. Seishirou raised his blade a fraction of a second too late, and got knocked back by the bolt. He collided with the wall, hard enough to leave bruises across most of his back.

"You've gotten very skilled with that sword, Little Wolf!" he called through the roaring wind.

Syaoran ignored the compliment and the nickname. "Why did you do this? What purpose am I supposed to serve in your plan?"

"Your actions will be the catalyst of the spell that will save my brother. Whether you realize beforehand what action you must take or not is none of my concern."

Magic hummed along the steel edge of his sword. "Raitei Shourai!"

Seishirou leapt up to a stone ledge in the wall, out of range of the spell. "Have you remembered what I told you about magic?"

"I'm still trying to figure it out."

"Ah. Well, keep thinking. I'm sure you'll get it eventually."

This sent a surge of irritation through Syaoran, which he did his best to ignore. He had to _focus_.

_I have to win, so I can go back to Sakura._

"We both have a goal that we would do anything to accomplish," he called to the older man. "And if I can help you, without jeopardizing my goal, I will. So tell me, what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to finish this fight," Seishirou said cheerfully.

_It's always about the fight for him, _Syaoran thought. _Any conflict he causes in pursuit of his goal is a bonus for him. Is this, too? Or . . . is this just a means to an end?_

Seishirou leapt down from the ledge, getting back within striking distance. Syaoran readied the next spell, letting the blade of his sword vibrate with the force of his magic. As his teacher closed the distance between them, he realized there was no time.

He moved the blade out in front of him to block the blow, not realizing until he felt the dark tentacles of Seishirou's shape-shifting sword around his wrists that he'd made a mistake. Seishirou's lips stretched wider as the black snake coiled around his arm. "But I think this fight is over," Seishirou said, flinging Syaoran into the wall.

As soon as Syaoran hit the wall, he knew something was wrong. He felt the sudden disconnect, the cessation of feeling in the lower half of his body. A fraction of a second later, when the cracking sound reached his ears, he knew he'd broken his spine.


	86. Paralyzed

Chapter Eighty-Six

The bruised side of his face hit the ground, a sharp pain next to the sudden numbness of his lower body. _No, _he thought, his breath coming in ragged gasps. _No, this can't be happening to me . . . _

But it was. From just above his waist down to his toes, Syaoran felt nothing—no hint of pain in his lower extremities, no response as his survival instinct commanded him to get up, to fight. Nothing at all.

He'd fallen so he was facing the center of the room. He watched Seishirou lower his shape-shifting blade, watched it retract into his body.

He wasn't smiling.

_No, _Syaoran thought, heart pounding. It seemed to be the only organ in his body which had any measure of sensation. He could no longer feel the knot of anxiety in his stomach, could no longer feel anything below the line where his spinal cord had been severed. It was as if half his body had died, when he'd hit the wall. _Maybe it did . . . Maybe the rest will follow._

His mentor approached, each footstep measured, deliberate. Syaoran's eyes flashed to the man's face, but Seishirou's eyes were obscured by the glasses he'd donned on the steps. In that moment, it was as if he was some faceless entity—a ghost trying to bring him to whatever afterlife existed for a creature like him.

_No, no, please no, this is all a dream, let it be another nightmare . . . _His hands groped for his sword. He needed some way to defend himself. _And then what? _part of his mind criticized. _Crawl all the way up the stairs? Pray the others decide to come back for you? Wait around to get eaten?_

Those concerns were great enough to occupy hours of thinking later on—hours he would perhaps spend trying to fend off the dragon-like creatures that infested this accursed, cold place as he crawled up the steps. His whole life, he'd been reliant on his legs. He'd used them to walk for miles and miles, traveling various countries and worlds. He'd used them in self-defense to fend off the worst attacks of his foes. He'd relied on them even more than his arms, as if they were pillars of support. And now, they were limp, noodle-like things, sprawled carelessly over the ground. Useless. Immobile. Dead weight he'd have to drag up the canyon if he had any hopes of surviving.

_Maybe Seishirou will show mercy and kill me, _he thought, fingers loosening around the hilt of his sword.

Seishirou took the final steps toward him, then stopped, just out of his sword's cutting range. Several seconds passed in silence.

"You wouldn't have been able to fulfill my wish, after all," Seishirou said softly, kneeling down beside him. "How unfortunate."

Part of him wanted to feel betrayed by the lack of feeling in Seishirou's voice. The rest of him knew he'd been betrayed a long time ago. From the very beginning.

"I thought, perhaps, you might be the one person able to defeat me. Admittedly, the ninja gave me a few good fights, but I was certain _you_ would be the one to surpass me eventually. You knew my techniques, my style. You should've had an advantage. But it seems I was mistaken."

A small surge of anger rose in Syaoran—just as useless, at this point, as his legs. He could do nothing, say nothing, to ruin Seishirou the way he'd been ruined. Seishirou could dodge his magic, would see the assault coming a mile away, as soon as he reached for his sword.

The anger pulsed and seethed as Seishirou spoke.

"I suppose there's no point in me staying here. This canyon is rather eerie, and I'd like Fuuma to live out his last days in peace, since he won't live much longer."

_Pulse._ Like a heartbeat driven faster by anger.

"Of course, I expected you to be more clever in your fighting, given how smart you were. But perhaps your analytical abilities apply only to books and artifacts."

_Pulse. _Stronger now, as fury pushed the weak anger out of the way and took up residence in his heart.

"In the end, you never understood your purpose here. And from the way you left your friends in Infinity, you didn't understand your purpose there, either."

_Pulse. _Fury transitioning into something else, something cold and sharp, like a steel edge. Not anger, not exactly. Something else, something that lingered in his veins, chilling his blood like ice water.

Seishirou sidled closer, his features turning almost tender as his hand snaked under Syaoran's face. He tilted Syaoran's chin up, as if the awkward angle would allow him a better view. Syaoran's eyebrows angled down.

"Perhaps," Seishirou said. His voice was such that Syaoran wondered if he was deliberately exposing the manipulative edge that had been skulking under the surface since Infinity. "it is as you said in Cirrus. That you bring disaster wherever you go, like a butterfly of doom."

_Pulse. _Colder than anger, but born of the same seed. Cold and dark and deadly.

Hate. Syaoran _hated_ him.

_Pulse._ Cold and dark, but also potent, spiraling out of control faster than he could reign it in. Memories of the circus world flashed through his mind. That hatred had been nothing but a pitiful echo of this one, and he had killed that ringmaster without reservation or regret.

_Pulse._

_Pulse._

_Pulse . . . _

Seishirou had used him, broken him, turned him into a monster. Far greater offenses than those of the ringmaster.

A leather hilt under his fingertips, easily within reach, topped with a long, sharp blade . . .

_Pulse._

Hatred seethed inside him, fighting for retribution, warring with his self-control, battling the shattered splinters of the gratitude he'd once felt.

Syaoran's hand coiled around the hilt of his sword, knuckles going white with the force of his grip. Even if he had to crawl out of this canyon, even if he got picked to the bone by the dragons, he knew he'd be able to endure it all, so long as he never had to see Seishirou's face again.

Perhaps the dark-haired man had thought his student's arms had been paralyzed as well, or perhaps he was simply unprepared for the sudden strike. The tip of Syaoran's sword bit deep into the left side of Seishirou's chest, burrowing between his ribs and piercing his pericardium. His features lit up with shock, just for a second, before blood flooded out between his lips. The man coughed, further damaging his internal organs. Crimson droplets spattered everywhere—across the walls, across Syaoran's face, across his clothes. It wasn't until he saw the half-insane smirk on Seishirou's face that he realized the older man wasn't coughing, but laughing.

"It seems I've misjudged you grievously," Seishirou croaked, more blood spilling out of his mouth. Syaoran would've pulled the sword out, would've let the blood run from the other man's heart and end this whole disaster of a battle, except for the brittle joy in Seishirou's expression. "I didn't think I could push you to it. Truly, I'd lost all hope that you could—" He coughed again, more sticky fluid flying free of his lips.

_Push me to it? _Syaoran thought as his anger receded. "What do you mean?

Another laugh. More blood. "Here I thought you were going to do it with your magic, like we've been practicing, but you went ahead and used your sword like—like that ninja taught you! Ha! It shows how little I know of teaching."

It seemed so strange that a man in the throes of death should be so exultant, but Syaoran couldn't move, not even to rip the sword out. "I don't understand."

"Hitsuzen was against me from the very beginning! I _knew _that. Of course I knew that. Bringing someone back from the dead may be a sin, but I thought bringing someone back from _near_-death might be possible. But Yuuko-san said even that carried a price too great. She said, 'The value of a life can only be matched by that of another life.' And since Fuuma's death was certain—" He broke off into another fit of laughter, choking on his own blood as he did so. The words replayed over in Syaoran's mind, rearranging themselves in the only sensible order.

Seishirou's laughter died down as pain flickered across his face. His brief euphoria seemed to be diminishing.

Quietly, Syaoran said, "This was your price."

The dark-haired man nodded weakly, fading faster and faster with each second. "It was. My life for my brother's." He choked on another mouthful of blood, but quickly regained control of himself. "But I . . . I didn't want to die by my own hand, so I . . ." He lowered his head.

"That was why you attacked me in Infinity," Syaoran whispered. "You were trying to get me to kill you."

Seishirou's head bobbed like the head of a rag doll.

"That's why you went after my friends in Cirrus. That's why you turned me into a vampire. Everything you did . . . was to make me hate you. so that when I . . ."

Seishirou nodded again. "So that when the time came for you to kill me, you would hate me so much . . . that it wouldn't hurt you. That you wouldn't agonize over it, or feel like you did the wrong thing."

Hot tears rose to his eyes, obscuring his vision so all he could see were blurs of black and red. "And you never told me?"

"You're too honorable. If you had known, you never would've been able to—" A spasm of agony twisted his features, this one longer and more intense than the last. Twin trails of tears burned down Syaoran's cheeks.

"Seishirou . . ."

"I have lived longer than most, much longer than my brother. I decided I would take this chance—even knowing I might not be able to revive him. To accept this price, regardless of the outcome. I rolled the dice of fate . . ." He looked over to Fuuma, still lying against the opposite wall, still unconscious. A sad, genuine smile appeared on Seishirou's lips. "And I lost."

"Lost? You mean—"

"Yes. I lost. The second price to restore his life was what I needed from you. The second price would have been your magic."

"My—" He broke off, remembering Seishirou's words in Infinity, the assurances that he would only need him to work a few spells when they reached the time and place they'd been searching for. The lie that hadn't been a lie.

"If you had killed me with your magic instead of that sword, my blood would've transferred the magic as payment to Yuuko. You would have been without magic, and I would have lost my life, but Fuuma would have lived. But it didn't work out that way. The witch would call it Hitsuzen."

Syaoran's voice quavered. "So, it was all for nothing? I . . . did _this _. . . for _nothing_?" He gestured helplessly to the wound on Seishirou's chest.

"It wasn't for nothing," Seishirou assured him. "Whatever happens to you now, you'll be stronger for it. And I . . . Well, let's just say a pair of twin vampires will be glad to hear I'm gone."

"Seishirou . . ."

"Don't mourn for me, Little Wolf." He lifted one hand to the top of Syaoran's head to tousle his hair. "It's better this way."

Seishirou blinked slowly, as if on the edge of sleep. His sad smile, born with thoughts of his brother, deepened. Syaoran felt the weight shift on the end of his sword, pulling the blade down to the ground, and knew Seishirou was dead.

_This is his price, _Syaoran thought, removing the sword and cradling the red-stained blade next to his chest. _This is the price of a life . . . _He closed his eyes and let the world disappear around him.


	87. Awakened

_Author's Notes:_

_We skip ahead a bit, but all will be explained over the next few chapters, so don't panic._

* * *

><p>Chapter Eighty-Seven<p>

The chirping of birds roused Syaoran from his sleep, but it was still several moments before he moved. _How am I hearing this? _he wondered. _There shouldn't be birds down here. _

He shifted where he lay. Something soft brushed against the skin of his torso, something that didn't belong in the canyon. His curiosity faded as he made another discovery. _I can feel my legs again! What's going on? _

He had a horrible notion that he'd died from his wounds, that Seishirou had killed him, and the last moments in the canyon had been nothing more than his dying dreams. _And if I died, where am I now? _

His ears—still sensitive despite his apparent death—picked up on a shuffling sound a few feet away. Sunlight stabbed at his eyes as they flew open, and he tried to rise into a sitting position. As soon as he moved, agony shattered his brief tranquility. He fell back into a lying position, panting at the sudden influx of pain.

"Don't try to move yet," someone scolded. His eyes, closed against the rush of pain, reopened to identify the speaker.

And then he went quiet, because he wasn't ready to face this conversation yet.

Kurogane sighed in exasperation. "Just stay still for a minute." He moved over to the wall, grabbing a handle embedded in the wooden framework. The paper wall slid open like a door, and he stuck his head out, rapping out a string of words that sounded nonsensical until Syaoran realized they were mostly names. When he was done speaking, Kurogane slid the door closed and turned back to him.

Syaoran tensed, waiting for whatever punishment he was about to receive. It was hard to tell from the ninja's expression whether that meant a beating, or a scolding, or being exiled from the group. And Syaoran knew he deserved much worse than any of those things.

Kurogane said nothing, only crossing his arms in front of him. Syaoran tried to say the obvious words—the apology he so badly needed to say—but his throat closed up as if a noose had been pulled tight around his neck.

The ninja stood there, letting the silence reverberate through the room. After a few more seconds, Syaoran looked away. His vision blurred. A dull pain wrapped around his throat.

"So," Kurogane said. Syaoran flinched. "We've got a lot to talk about."

Syaoran managed to nod.

"For starters, you're alive. It's a fucking miracle."

He winced at the sarcasm. _I deserve that, _he conceded silently.

"The princess is alive and unharmed, despite you nearly killing her. She'll be out working on her fighting skills until dusk. The mage and I are fine. So is the white pork bun." Kurogane lifted his crimson eyes to look at him. Syaoran wished he could understand the expression there, so he might have some idea what the ninja would say next.

"Seishirou is dead," Kurogane said quietly. "So is Fuuma."

Syaoran bit the inside of his lip to keep from showing a reaction. The last thing he wanted was to acknowledge his distress over the news while he was already in peril.

"We're in a new world now. We left the canyon as soon as we'd collected all the feathers Seishirou had."

This news jerked him out of his silence. "All of them?"

"There were more than we expected. But the princess handled it just fine."

"Even the one I had?"

Surprise flitted across the ninja's face for the first time. _So he didn't know about that. _Syaoran rose into a sitting position, moving slowly against the pain. Even so, by the time he'd managed to sit upright, he was sweating from the effort.

Kurogane sighed. "Worry about that later. We've got things to discuss right now." He stalked over to the bedside. His movements were quick enough to put Syaoran on edge, and his eyes darted around the room, looking for ways to escape, as well as potential weapons. Which was stupid, because even if he'd wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to kill Kurogane-san.

"Where's my sword?" he asked, when he realized the familiar weapon was nowhere in the vicinity.

"We left it in the canyon so you wouldn't use it on us."

"I would never—" He broke off, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. _But I have, haven't I? Twice now. _

"That was a _joke_. It's with the manju bun. And you're not getting it back until I say so!"

Relief, confusion, and guilt battled for dominance in his mind. He settled on guilt. "That's fair."

Kurogane made a sound of distaste at the back of his throat. "Honestly, sometimes you act more ridiculous than the mage. What were you thinking, going off with _him_?"

"I—" He choked on the words. It was the question he'd been waiting for, the one that demanded an explanation. It was the one question he'd had an answer to. But suddenly, all his excuses seemed pitiful, reckless, illogical. He couldn't say he'd gone away because he'd felt lonely—the ninja, at least, had made an effort to connect with him, during his training. He couldn't say it was to protect Sakura, given his spectacular failure to do so in the canyon. He couldn't say it was to help Fuuma and Seishirou, because they were both dead, and one of them had been a hated enemy. And there was no way he was going to convince the ninja that he'd been trying to do the right thing. "I messed up. I was stupid, and I messed everything up."

"The thing I don't get is why you never said anything about it before you left. You never mentioned the deals you were making with him."

"I kept a lot of things from you that I shouldn't have."

Anger flashed across the dark-haired man's face, and he stalked over to the straw mat where Syaoran lay. He had perhaps a second of warning before the ninja's hand wound around his upper arm and hauled him to his feet. Agony ripped through him, like razorblades scraping off his skin. His body went limp, tears rushing to his eyes and overflowing.

Somehow, those tears were more humiliating than anything he'd done since his escape from Fei Wang Reed. To shed them now, in front of someone who he had no right to expect sympathy from, was worse than the most degrading comments he could imagine.

Kurogane held him like that for a long moment, then slowly let him down. "You should rest," the ninja said softly. "You're not fully recovered."

Syaoran turned away, dragging his sleeve across his face to rid it of the salty tears. The room was quiet for almost a minute before Kurogane spoke again.

"You weren't the only one who messed up, you know. So did the rest of us."

"No. It was—"

"I'm not done! Now _listen_. There's no getting around the fact that what you did was stupid. But you only did it because the rest of us treated you like shit. Right?"

Syaoran didn't answer. Kurogane seemed to take that as an affirmative.

"You remember the night before you disappeared? The night I got you drunk?

He said nothing.

"Do you remember or not?" Kurogane demanded.

"I remember."

The ninja nodded. "You said something—the last thing you said to us until we found you in Sapphirine. You said you didn't know which was worse: the fact that you thought Fai hated you, or that I thought I had to get you drunk to answer my questions."

"I'm sorry."

"And you were _right_," the ninja said, barely leashed fury in his voice. Syaoran looked up, startled. "You were right about all of it. We treated you like shit, and the only thing you could think to do was leave. And you had every right."

"I . . . don't understand."

Kurogane stood up, sighing. "No. You don't. We thought you were _dead_. For _weeks_, we thought that. Do you have any _idea_ what you put us through?"

His eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"I thought I'd lost my apprentice! The mage thought he'd killed you because of some stupid curse! The princess blamed herself for letting you leave! Do you even _know_—" He broke off. Then, his voice dropped low. "If you were hurting so much, you should have _said _something."

Syaoran looked down. "I didn't think anyone would care."

Shock crossed the warrior's face, wiping it clean of anger. He sat down next to the mattress, looking away. His features softened, shifting to an expression Syaoran had only rarely seen on his face: regret.

Kurogane didn't say anything, just got up and walked over to the edge of the room and picked something off the table by the door. The dark fabric made a crinkling sound, like a canvas bag being picked up. "I don't know if you wanted this," the ninja said, tossing him the bundle of fabric. "I don't know what happened between you and Seishirou, and I don't care. But that's yours now, whatever you decide to do with it."

Syaoran looked down at the bundle, hands moving to unfold it. As the fabric spread out and the scent rose from the material, Syaoran identified it._ This was Seishirou's cloak, _he thought, his body going numb all over again. It was clear from the lack of blood that it had been thoroughly cleaned before reaching this room, but the scent lingered, a reminder of the owner. Syaoran cradled the cloak against his chest. "Thank you," he whispered, trying to sound polite instead of like he was about to break down.

Kurogane just walked to the door and said, "I'm getting the mage."


	88. Failed

Chapter Eighty-Eight

_Damn it, _Kurogane thought, stalking past half a dozen people. Whenever he got close to someone, they retreated against the wall, faces turned down to avoid meeting his glare. Many of them were palace servants—Tomoyo kept her personal staff, but Kendappa had dozens of disposable subjects working for her every hour of the day, and many of them had little to do but fawn over the new arrivals to Shirasagi Castle. Which roughly translated into a lot of curious eyes peering in to see the injured vampire Kurogane had brought with him.

They all must have sensed his frustration, though, given that none of them peeked their heads into the little room to check on the boy. He sent a brief prayer to the gods that they would at least have the grace to wait until someone invited them in before intruding.

The kid's living quarters was quite a walk from his own, for various reasons. The first reason was that, in the event he wasn't there when the boy woke up, the kid wouldn't wander into his room without being intercepted by one of the servants. The second was that the princess and the mage would be less inclined to wake up every five minutes in the night to check on him if he was far away. They'd barely been keeping it together as it was.

Instead of returning to the room he'd occupied whenever he was guarding Princess Tomoyo, he passed another set of doors and knocked on the wooden frame of the walls. "Mage, you in there?"

"Coming!" the vampire sang, sliding the door open a moment later. In his arms was a basket of laundry, recently folded. "Good morning, Kuro-pon!"

Kurogane gritted his teeth. There was so much wrong with what he'd just witnessed—first the laundry basket, when there were dozens of servants just standing around waiting for orders, and then the nickname, resurrected after months of disuse. Any other day, Kurogane would've criticized both those things.

Not now. Not when things were finally returning to some semblance of normalcy, not when things were so precariously balanced between harmony and disaster. He would not do anything to ruin their fragile peace now, not even yell at the mage. "The kid's awake. And not paralyzed anymore, apparently."

Fai's smile died, and he set the laundry basket down. Even after just three days of near-constant smiling and cheeriness, the frown looked unnatural. _Better that way, _Kurogane decided.

"You spoke to him already?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Somewhat."

Fai arched an eyebrow, trying to decipher his response. Kurogane waited. "So, you talked to him, and he talked back? Or did you talk to him and he didn't say anything? Or . . ."

The ninja shrugged. "He didn't say much."

The mage still didn't smile. "You didn't like his answers?"

"No. I didn't. So you're going to talk to him instead."

Fai smiled again, looking faintly sad. "I think he'll be glad you were watching over him, once he gets used to the idea of traveling with us again."

"Whatever." He turned away from the door and stalked back over to his room, letting his hand rest on Souhi's hilt. It was nice to be in a world where he could carry his sword around without getting strange looks.

It was nice to be home.

His room was simple—a square box with few pieces of furniture. A straw mat was pushed up against the far wall, soft enough to sleep on, but not so soft as to swallow him up. There was a stand for his sword, though he only left it there when he slept, given the group's propensity to vanish from one dimension to the next without warning. On the wall hung a few simple tapestries, one with his family name, and one declaring his rank. Apart from that, there was not much he had in the way of permanent possessions.

He sat down on the straw mat, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. Though he'd often claimed to get headaches from the mage's constant chatter, this was the first time he'd ever gotten a headache over the boy.

_That was a disaster, _he thought, dropping his forehead into his hands and exhaling.

The kid's words echoed in his ears: _"I didn't think anyone would care."_

Kurogane rarely felt guilty. He hadn't felt guilty for slaying hundreds of assassins over the years, and he hadn't allowed himself to feel guilty over his failure to protect Suwa from demons. His primary reaction to anything unpleasant was anger. Now that anger doubled back on him, ripping him apart from inside. He'd never had an apprentice before the boy, had never deigned to share his trade with anyone before. Even without teaching experience, however, such a complete failure struck a hard blow against his pride. Not only had his first apprentice run away, he'd done it because he'd thought no one would care enough to miss him. _I should have seen, _the ninja thought, not as an accusation, but as a simple fact. _I should have known something was wrong. I should have fixed it._

The room was quiet for a while. Then, Kurogane stood and walked out, trying not to frighten the servants again. The time to be angry had come and gone. Now he had to make things right.

He slid one of the doors open and went outside.

* * *

><p>Syaoran tucked Seishirou's cloak under the blankets when he heard the door open. A single, blue eye touched on him for a moment before his visitor entered.<p>

"Kuro-rin said you were awake."

The nickname startled Syaoran. In Infinity, everyone had been so on edge, so ready to hurt each other. Syaoran had suspected, even then, that Fai's use of the ninja's full name had been meant to distance him from everyone.

Fai closed the door behind him and approached, moving slowly, but without hesitation. He sat down next to the mattress, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling. "So, did he tell you what happened after you passed out?"

"Yeah . . ." Syaoran waited to see if the magician would say anything more, not sure how Fai would react to his presence despite their brief contact in Cirrus. When several minutes passed between them without a word, Syaoran spoke. "What world have we landed in?"

Surprise flitted across Fai's face. "He didn't tell you?"

Syaoran shook his head.

Suddenly, Fai was grinning. "We're in Nihon. Kuro-pin's home country."

Alarm flashed through him, though he couldn't think of a concrete reason why he _should _be afraid. Perhaps it was because, now that Kurogane's wish had come true, the ninja would likely want to stay here. That meant . . . _He'll never know how sorry I am. He probably doesn't even want to see me, now that he knows I'm alive. _

Syaoran brought his blankets closer to his chest. His shirt had been taken away to some other place, probably to be washed or discarded, depending on the extent of the damage. He was wearing the pants he'd had in the previous dimension, though they'd apparently been washed since he'd been asleep. He'd already checked to make sure the metal bolt from Sakura's leg brace had been returned to him. It had been put back in his pocket.

"Don't worry," Fai said, resting a gentle hand on Syaoran's head. "Everything's all right. Whatever monsters lurk beyond the borders, this part of the world is relatively safe."

Syaoran nodded, though the words seemed to be tempting fate. He wasn't especially concerned about the world itself, anyway. If he'd been left to rest, chances were they weren't in any grave peril. _Not like the last world . . . _he thought, lips sinking into a frown.

"Smile!" Fai sang. "You're alive and not paralyzed. We should be _celebrating_."

Syaoran looked down at his legs, remembering how horrified he'd been to lose feeling in them, even for a few minutes. "Yeah . . . But how?" _What price did they pay to let me walk again? _

"Your vampire blood, most likely. I mean, I'm pretty sure humans don't recover from injuries like that, especially not so quickly. And even if things that happen before the transformation can't be healed . . ." Fai raised his fingertips to his eyelid, indicating the eye the Other had ripped out and eaten. Syaoran repressed a shudder. "Wounds you receive after you become a vampire heal quite easily."

"So . . . That's all? My vampirism kept me from being a paraplegic?"

Fai nodded.

Syaoran was struck with the notion that Seishirou had known all along the injury wouldn't last. _That's why he was able to speak so casually—he knew I was going to be fine. _"I . . . That's a relief."

"In a way, it was lucky. Even though Seishirou caused all that damage, he gave you the power to heal."

Syaoran nodded uneasily. He was the one with the most insight onto Seishirou's failed plan, and still, it would take him weeks to put every detail together with any degree of confidence. But right now, any conclusion the others made was impossible to rule out.

"Did you ever figure out what Seishirou meant when he was talking about magic?" Fai asked. "I was curious."

Syaoran thought about it for a moment. In hindsight, the answer was much more obvious. "He said that certain emotions, like anger and hatred and frustration, can increase the potency of any magical spell. He was trying to provoke me into attacking him with my magic."

"Oh. Why?"

"I . . ." He hesitated, not sure whether he'd be able to tell the truth for this one without having to give a long explanation of Seishirou's plan, but unwilling to lie when his relationships were already so fractured. He sighed. "To fulfill the requirements his wish."

Fai's face softened, and Syaoran wondered how much more the magician understood than he was letting on. _Probably a lot. I'm sure he understands magic better than I do. Probably even better than Seishirou did._

"Hatred and pain do increase the strength of your magic," Fai said, serious for once. "But they also poison you from within, leave you brittle and broken so that everything else hurts you in turn."

"Fai-san . . ."

"There are better sources of magic," the magician went on, his gaze a thousand miles away. "Anger and frustration, yes, but also a desire to protect someone, no matter what you have to face because of it." Fai tilted his head back and smiled. "Though I don't think that'll be too much of an issue anymore."

Syaoran was about to ask Fai where his certainty came from when the door slid open. He looked up, almost gasping at the figure that appeared there.

Fai looked over to their unexpected visitor. "Ah, I was wondering when Kuro-pon would send you in, Sakura-chan."


	89. Offered

Chapter Eighty-Nine

When Fai had sensed the faint ripples of Sakura's magic near the door, he'd prepared himself to see Syaoran's reaction. He'd expected relief, maybe even a little happiness, combined with the cloud of guilt that seemed to hang over the boy. What he was not prepared for, however, was the total change that came over Syaoran's face when he saw her. His lips parted slightly as he whispered her name, too quiet for her to hear with her less sensitive ears. His pupils dilated until only a thin, amber ring remained around the edges of the black. A faint flush crept into his cheeks.

All of that would've been expected—of course Syaoran would be happy to see her. But it was so much more than that. When Syaoran saw her, it was as if every cell in his body bloomed with new life. As if he'd been deathly ill and had suddenly been restored to health. Fai had not realized how haggard the boy had looked until the exhaustion had been replaced with joy.

_And something else,_ Fai thought as Sakura rushed across the room and knelt down beside Syaoran. The boy sat up, joints cracking with the swiftness of his movement. A spasm of pain shot across his face, swallowed up almost instantly by his exuberance. "Sakura," he whispered, the name so fervent that Fai could think of no comparison to judge it by.

Fai smiled and stood up. "I've got to go check on the laundry," he told them. Their gazes never wavered from each other's faces.

He walked out through the door and closed it behind him. Then he turned to Kurogane, leaning against the wall. "That was nice of you."

The ninja shrugged, but his eyes hadn't left the paper wall. After a few seconds, his expression softened. "Figured the kid needed to see her more than she needed to practice."

Fai nodded. "I think he's needed that for a long time. Probably since before he left."

Kurogane tensed. His chin dropped half an inch.

Fai frowned. "So what did he say to you, to change your mind?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You were planning on waiting until Sakura was done training before you told her he was awake. Or am I wrong?"

Kurogane's eyes flashed back to the door, as if he could see something beyond it. "That was the plan."

"So what did Syaoran-kun say to change your mind? It must've been something."

The ninja was quiet for a moment, contemplative. "I wanted him to understand what he'd put us through by leaving. I figured he'd explain why he did it, when he was so much better off with us."

"And?"

"He said he thought we wouldn't care."

Fai bit the inside of his lip. _Ah, _he thought, looking down at his feet. "He's still healing. Once he realizes he's safe with us, things will come easier to him."

"It's not that. My problem is that he was right. We treated him like shit for _weeks_, and he never complained. He kept things from us, about Seishirou, that he might've shared if he'd thought his fate had mattered to us. He never said a word, so we _kept_ treating him like shit—" He broke off, and Fai glanced up. The ninja was staring at a spot on the floor, his hands clenched into tight fists.

"We made a mistake," Fai said quietly. "Our little family shattered. But at least now we have all the pieces back together, right?"

The ninja's expression evened out a little bit. "Right. But it's still not going to be easy."

"No," Fai said, listening for any words beyond the doorway. While it wasn't silent, it seemed that neither of them had any words. _They don't need words to communicate anymore, _Fai thought. _They've both been broken so many times already. They understand. _"It won't be easy. If it was easy, it wouldn't be worth it."

The ninja looked at him sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just an old Ceresian saying."

Kurogane narrowed his eyes. "What do you really mean?"

"I wish you wouldn't get like this, Kuro-pyon. Truly, I didn't mean anything by it."

The ninja glowered at him for a long moment, then looked down the hallway, out beyond the window. Light was streaming in from the east, leaving a patch of sunshine on the wooden floor. The slanted pillars of light illuminated the dust motes in the air. It was . . . peaceful. _No, it won't be easy, _Fai thought. _But for now, at least, they can be happy._

* * *

><p>From the moment she walked in the door, the whole universe seemed to orient itself around her. The sun shone a little brighter through the window. The dark support beams of the walls stood out in sharper contrast to the paper background. But for all the room seemed to come to life, there was only one thing he was looking at.<p>

"Ah, I was wondering when Kuro-pyon would send you in, Sakura-chan," Fai said, looking over to see the miracle that had walked into the room.

A thousand feelings rushed through Syaoran as she ran to his bedside, too fast to comprehend. All mingled together in a weak cry. "Sakura."

Fai stood up, murmuring something about the laundry. Syaoran didn't break eye contact with Sakura. He couldn't.

"Syaoran," she whispered as the door slid shut. His heart raced at the sound of his name. "You're okay."

"Yes."

Her lower lip trembled a little bit, as if she was about to burst into tears. Syaoran braced himself, unsure of the emotion behind the tremor. But then, something amazing happened.

Sakura smiled.

A thousand times, he had seen her smile through the Other's eyes. A thousand times, she had lit up his world with her tender, carefree grin, without him even being present. It had been a small comfort in his years as Reed's prisoner. But to see it with his own eyes—to see it now, knowing he loved her—made his heart soar. He leaned forward, inhibitions abandoning him, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I missed you," he whispered into her ear.

Her hands tentatively traced his ribs as they encircled him. "You've gotten thinner," she said softly, hands moving to his shoulder blades.

_It's been a while since I've fed, _he thought, noticing the warm scent coming off her skin. Ever since his transformation, he'd tried to avoid coming in close contact with humans. Their appetizing scent jumbled his priorities, even when their blood was concealed under a layer of skin. _A very thin layer, _part of him thought. He felt his teeth sharpen against his lower lip.

Sakura's voice grew hesitant, her arms drawing tighter around him. "Have you been . . . taking care of yourself?"

"I'm fine."

She pulled back, her lips sinking into a frown, and he regretted his inadequate response. At least she didn't let him go.

"So, Seishirou turned you into a . . ."

"A vampire," he confirmed.

"Which means you'll need blood to live?"

Tension tugged at the muscles of his back. _She couldn't mean . . . _"Yes," he said cautiously.

Sakura nodded once, slowly. He could almost hear the words on the tips of her tongue, could almost make out the sound of her voice from his years of watching. But he waited for her to speak.

"I could . . . I mean, if it's not too dangerous, I could . . . help you."

He shook his head, a quick, jerky movement. "I'm not that thirsty."

Her green eyes flashed up to him, then down to the floor. Her hands drifted away from his back to his ribs, and she looked at him again, asking for permission. Syaoran said nothing, frozen by the pleasure of her touch. Her fingertips trailed over the bumps of his ribcage. _I really am getting thinner, _he thought, suddenly wishing he hadn't been such a pathetic wreck since he'd left with Seishirou. _I need to feed more often, so I can protect her._

"I don't want you to be in pain," Sakura said softly, her eyes darting toward the door. "And I'm sorry the way I acted in Infinity hurt you. I didn't hate you, not ever. It was just . . ." She looked away.

"I wasn't your Syaoran," he finished, watching her face for some sort of reaction. She winced.

"I should never have been so cold to you. I didn't realize how much I'd hurt you until the day you left. Right now, more than anything, I want to make up for the pain I caused you by helping you recover, so . . ." She halted and inhaled, as if she'd run out of breath. "So, even if it only helps a little bit, I want you drink my blood."


	90. Stayed

Chapter Ninety

The offer hung in the air, defining a new connection between them. Syaoran stared at Sakura, his breath catching in his throat. "I . . . I'm not . . ."

"You need to feed, don't you?" Sakura asked, leaning forward slightly. Her lips slipped into a slight pout, as they'd done whenever the Other had been hurt and tried to keep it a secret.

"Yes, but . . ." He swallowed thickly. Her scent wrapped around him like a cloak, stirring the ravenous predator within. For her to offer her blood . . . Surely the others would protest. Fai and Kurogane both. Surely Sakura had only offered out of some sense of obligation, or pity.

Surely, she couldn't mean it.

"Not here," he whispered, breaking eye contact. "Not now. Not you."

Sakura flinched, her hand releasing his and retreating to her lap. The sudden lack of connection made Syaoran shiver.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, standing up. Syaoran's heart shot up to his throat, and his hand lifted up to capture hers. Her arm went rigid at the contact, as it might have if some slimy animal had touched her.

Syaoran released her hand, a mix of panic and self-disgust forcing him to withdraw. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?"

"I . . . I only meant . . . If I lost control of myself even _once _while I was near you . . ." He shook his head, as if doing so would expel the thought from his mind.

"I'm . . . important to you?" she asked, turning back to him. Her gaze was intense, curious.

He nodded, unable to say the words building at the back of his throat.

She sat down, legs folding awkwardly under her. When her leg brace scraped against the floor, she winced. He reached toward her reflexively, then pulled back, unsure how to alleviate the pain. She smiled apologetically. "Don't worry about that. It just gets a little sore after sword practice."

He thought of the metal bolt sitting in his pocket and gulped. "It . . . It looks like you got it fixed . . . after Cirrus."

She nodded, tracing the steel joint. "We fell into a world where everything was powered by steam, and this nice mechanist fixed it up for me. It's more stable now, and the quality of the steel is better."

"That's good."

"Yes." Sakura's smile softened, and Syaoran's heart thumped. He'd waited so long to see her smile like that. Today, he'd seen so many, he couldn't process them all.

He didn't mind. Overdosing on her happiness wasn't such a bad way to go.

Sakura spoke again. "Kurogane-san says I'm a lot better than I used to be. He only corrects my stances once every few minutes now, when we work. Fai-san is proud of me, too, though I think he gets lonely because I'm always busy practicing."

Syaoran nodded.

"It's been tough," Sakura said. Her smile dimmed, but didn't disappear. "In the beginning, I was sore all the time, and I thought I'd never be good at it. But I . . . I wanted to learn it because you asked me to, the day you left . . . It was all I had left of you."

"Sakura . . ."

Her stern gaze silenced him. "That day, you didn't call me Princess, or even Sakura-chan. You just called me Sakura. As if we were . . ." She trailed off, leaving Syaoran dumbstruck. _I didn't realize, _he thought. _I didn't even realize I'd started calling her Sakura. The Other used to have such a hard time doing that . . . _

"Do you want me to stop calling you that?" he asked, struggling to weed out the pain in his voice.

"No! I . . . I just wanted you to know . . . I'm grateful, for all you did for me. You gave me a reason to keep fighting. I would've died in the canyon if you hadn't pushed me to learn how to defend myself."

"I nearly killed you," he whispered. "And you're _thanking _me?"

"It does sound kind of silly, when you put it that way." Her fingers traced the back of his hand before closing around his palm. Her hand was warm, like sunshine.

For a while, they just sat there, relaxing. The steady ache in his body eventually became too much, and he laid down again.

"Are you tired?" Sakura asked, legs shifting as if to stand. "Should I go?"

"Will you stay?" he asked, knowing he had no right to ask.

She laid down beside him, still holding his hand. "I don't mind staying. I missed you, too."

He eased deeper into the straw mattress, body languid after being asleep so long. "How long has it been since we arrived here?" he asked, eyelids sliding shut without his permission.

"About three days. For two of them, we were sure you were paralyzed. Nothing below your waist would move at all. It wasn't until you rolled over in your sleep last night that we thought otherwise." Sakura's fingertips massaged the palm of his hand. Syaoran forced his eyelids open to see her face again.

"Three days, huh? Yet somehow, I'm still exhausted . . ."

"You should sleep," Sakura said. "Yukito-san always said healing takes a lot of energy."

Syaoran shook his head. His neck was stiff after days of apparent stillness. "I don't want to sleep."

"Why not?"

His lips curled into a bitter smile. "Because I'll have nightmares."

He heard the faint sound of surprise Sakura made, and went on to explain.

"I've been having nightmares for a long time now. Seishirou . . . Seishirou carried around a bottle of medicine to keep the dreams away, but he's gone now, so . . . I don't have them."

"Syaoran, you have to sleep."

He tried to shrug, then winced as the movement pulled at his broken body. Though the most critical injuries had healed, he ached all over. It would probably be another day before he was well enough to walk around, even longer before he could fight. "I don't need so much sleep . . ." he murmured. "I managed the nightmares well enough in Infinity." _Not like I have to worry about sleepwalking in this condition anyway. _

He felt a faint pressure on the side of his face and opened his eyes. Sakura's hand rested on his cheekbone, a feather-light touch after so long starving for her presence. If breathing hadn't pained him enough already, the sudden swelling he felt in his chest would've done it. His breath quavered with each lungful of air. "Sakura . . ."

"There's nothing you have to be afraid of," Sakura whispered. "We're all here, and we're all safe. You can rest."

His eyelids slid shut again. This time, he couldn't find the will to open them. "Will you stay here? Until I fall asleep?"

There was no hesitation in her answer. "Yes."

"Thank you."

Sakura's hand wound around his, and he allowed himself to drift off. It was only minutes before he was dreaming again.


	91. Thanked

Chapter Ninety-One

A violet mist obscured the walls and blocked out the sun. Syaoran knew, even without seeing the luminous orb, that the Mist would dye the sun sapphire come sunset.

None of that was important, though, because he couldn't feel his legs.

He wriggled away from the wall, his lungs constricting painfully as he struggled to pull the dead weight behind him. His fingernails scraped across the carpet of moss that clung to the floor. He'd been crawling. Who knew how long, but it had rubbed his palms raw, leaving them drenched in blood.

But he had to keep moving. He knew that, and yet . . . his legs wouldn't obey him. _I'm broken, _he thought, heart pounding. _I'm broken, I'm broken . . . _

His hand snaked out, clutching a sword. And then there was crimson everywhere, and Seishirou's face, blood running down his lips.

_I did that, _Syaoran thought, stomach turning as the bespectacled man collapsed. _My fault. Everything that's happened is my fault . . ._

The shift between nightmares and reality was so sudden, it left Syaoran reeling. His eyes flashed open, the scenery suddenly changing to wooden floors and paper walls. Muffled by the thin walls were the cries of birds, singing their simple melodies. Their songs seemed so cheerful that, for a moment, all Syaoran could do was listen, wondering what kind of canyon creature would make such a deceptively beautiful sound.

"You're awake."

Syaoran eased himself into a sitting position, letting the adrenaline drain out of his system. _That's right. Fai said we were in Kurogane's country. _His gaze focused on the ninja's dark figure. Kurogane sat on the other side of the room, as far away as the confined space would allow. In his hands was a scroll; he rolled it up and set it aside as Syaoran surfaced from his dreams.

They watched each other for several seconds. Syaoran looked away first. "Good morning," he murmured.

"Better than yesterday, I hope." The ninja crossed his arms in front of his chest, but it was not the foreboding gesture it usually was. Neither was it defeat. No, it was more of a habitual gesture than anything else. "Are you feeling any better?"

The concern behind the question surprised Syaoran. _He couldn't be glad to have me back, _he thought, trying to piece together the odd behavior. _Kurogane would never accept a traitor like me. _"I'm fine."

The ninja nodded absently, staring at a spot on the floor. After a moment, he spoke again. "The princess said she offered you her blood."

Syaoran winced, blood rushing to his cheeks. "Yes, but . . . I didn't _do _anything. You know I wouldn't."

Kurogane held up a hand in a peacemaking gesture. "That's not what I was getting at."

Syaoran sunk back into the straw mattress, wondering what his teacher _had_ meant, if he wasn't accusing him of something.

"How long has it been since you fed?"

"A couple weeks," Syaoran said after a brief hesitation.

Kurogane nodded, as if filing that information away for later examination. "So you probably need to eat."

He didn't answer.

"I've talked to the palace servants. Some of them volunteered to—"

"_No_," Syaoran said. As he saw the look of shock flit across the ninja's face, he revised his reply. "I mean . . . I can take care of it myself. There's no reason to—"

"It's better my way."

"It's not your decision."

The ninja's eyebrows slanted downwards. Syaoran cringed. "I'm making it my decision," Kurogane said. "This is _my _world, and you are not going to starve yourself to death under _my _watch."

Syaoran opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Later, when he was able to think more about his actions, he'd tell himself that he only faltered because he was accustomed to obeying his teacher without question. But right now, the only thing holding his tongue was the flare of desire the thought of blood brought to his mind. Like an addict, he craved the sticky red fluid, needed to feel the warmth of it running down his throat. Hunger warred with self-disgust and shame, eventually winning out as he drew the blanket tighter around his thin frame. "Okay."

Kurogane stood and walked over to the door. There, he barked out a summons to someone waiting outside. While he gave orders, Syaoran laid his blanket aside and drew his legs in, joints cracking as he moved them. _I'm not broken, _he reminded himself, flickers of the nightmare lingering despite his assertion. _I can still walk. I'm as free as I ever was._

Kurogane slid the door shut and approached the mattress. Syaoran crossed his legs, ignoring the spasms of pain as his unused muscles moved. His whole body ached, just like it had when he'd woken up as a vampire. _He's right. I shouldn't have let myself go this long without feeding. _He took a slow, deep breath, collecting himself. Kurogane sat beside him.

Almost a minute passed in silence. Then, the ninja lifted a hand and rested it atop Syaoran's head. He flinched and went still, waiting.

"You're a good kid," Kurogane finally said.

Syaoran looked over, stunned. Of all the things the ninja could have said to him, that was the last he'd expected to hear. He looked down. "I'm a traitor."

"You could do worse."

"What do you mean?"

The ninja shrugged. "You could've killed the princess."

Syaoran winced, remembering how close he'd come to doing just that.

The door slid open, and a woman with sleek black hair stepped in, a large bamboo cylinder in her hands. Something sloshed around inside, like soup or water. It wasn't until the smell hit him that he realized the fluid contained within was the blood he so desperately needed.

"For you," the woman said, kneeling down and presenting the cup to him. Syaoran's eyes flashed to Kurogane's face in a silent plea for approval. _Does he really want to help me after all I've done? _Syaoran wondered when he received no response. He took another breath, the smell of blood invading his nose. He exhaled shakily and took the cup.

"Thank you."

The woman smiled and retreated to the door. Syaoran's fingers tightened around the cylinder, claws sliding out.

"Are you going to drink or not?" Kurogane demanded.

"I will, but . . ." He looked up at the ninja, trying to convey the awkwardness of this situation. He'd only ever fed in the presence of another vampire, and though Kurogane was familiar with the process after taking care of Fai, there was no way he understood just how overpowering the thirst could be. Syaoran looked down. "I can take care of it, so . . . You don't have to stay."

Kurogane watched him for a long moment, then stood up. "Can't be helped."

"I'm sorry," Syaoran whispered. "It's just—" He broke off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

"I'm listening."

"It's just . . . I'm not always in control of it. I don't know what would happen if I were to lose control of myself here."

"You won't."

He looked up. Kurogane stood by the door, obstinate. "You won't lose control," the ninja repeated. "You've always been in control of yourself. Becoming a vampire doesn't change that."

"It does. More than you can imagine."

Irritation flashed across the older man's face, and Syaoran wondered why he'd insisted on arguing his point.

To his surprise, Kurogane just sighed and opened the door. "I'll go, if that's easier for you. But I expect you to drink that. Got it?"

Syaoran nodded. "I will. And . . . Thank you."

"For what?"

Syaoran looked down at the cylinder of blood in his hands. "For not killing me."

The ninja barked out a laugh, stepping out of the room. "Of all the things to be grateful for . . ." he muttered as the door slid shut.


	92. Talked

Chapter Ninety-Two

As soon as Kurogane left, Syaoran removed the lid from the cylinder and downed half its contents. The blood—warm, though not as hot as that from a living body—splashed across his tongue, a cocktail of flavors ranging from cloyingly sweet to savory. At once, he could tell the blood was from two or three different sources, all mixed together to give it that unique flavor profile.

Though he loathed himself for learning the differences between samples of blood, he couldn't deny the restorative effect it had on his body. After the first few swallows, his gnawing hunger faded, and he was able to control himself. The next few gulps came slower, and by the time he lowered the cylinder from his lips, the cramping in his body had all but subsided. He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, letting the scent of blood fill his nostrils.

_I'm back in control, _he told himself, inhaling again. The scent was sharp, more appetizing than any mortal food, but he could endure it.

After a minute, he lifted the cylinder to his lips again and downed the rest of the blood, letting the last residue run slowly across the interior of the cup. No sense in wasting it, when several people had been generous enough to offer. _Even if I didn't ask . . . _He looked down. _Kurogane-san is still taking care of me, even though I'm a traitor. Fai-san and Sakura, too. But why?_

Syaoran set the cup aside and threw off his blankets. Sunlight streamed in through the window, warming the room and making the extra padding feel superfluous and smothering. And now that his thirst had been slaked, he had other things to do.

Someone had left a bundle of clothes a few feet from his bed. Upon closer inspection, Syaoran found they were all of appropriate size. He put them on, peeling off the clothes he'd been sleeping in for the past four or five days. He thought about searching for a place to bathe, then hesitated, unsure if he had freedom to walk around the castle.

_If they wanted me to stay here, they would've said something, wouldn't they? Or did they just assume I wouldn't be able to walk? Maybe they have guards posted outside to keep me in here. _He frowned, pressing his ear to the thin walls and listening for other heartbeats. He heard a distant thrum, probably coming from farther down the hall, but there was no one waiting outside his door. Cautiously, he slid the paper wall open and stepped out.

The corridor was quiet. The heartbeat he'd heard a moment ago had disappeared around the corner. Syaoran inhaled, then sighed. As much as he dreaded running into the others, he felt a pang at how distant they all were from him. _Sakura is probably out practicing right now, _he thought. _Kurogane-san probably went to check in with her after he left. Maybe I could talk to Fai-san, instead. _He sighed. Fai had held the strongest opposition to him in Infinity, with good reason, and the stark difference in his demeanor between then and now confused Syaoran more than it reassured him. But if the vampire had decided not to hate him, perhaps they should speak.

He wandered through the labyrinth, mapping out the building plan in his head. After years of traveling with Father, his memory of places was sharper than most. _Even if they aren't _my _memories. _

Building plans were generally easy to follow once one understood the general layout. Syaoran identified several patterns in the corridors and found the laundry room. Yesterday, Fai had mentioned something about going to do laundry. Perhaps the other servants would know where Fai's room was, if he came here often.

As it turned out, he didn't even have to ask. Fai walked out of the laundry room with a basket of folded towels just as Syaoran arrived. The magician looked over. "Good morning, Syaoran-kun. Did you sleep well?"

_Worse than usual, without my medicine. _"Well enough. Can we talk?"

Fai smiled. "Of course. Here, walk with me to the bathhouse so I can put these away." He readjusted the laundry basket and started down the corridor. Syaoran followed for a few paces, then walked beside him, being careful to keep his distance. "What did you want to talk about?" the magician asked.

Syaoran hesitated. There wasn't much he wanted to talk _about_. Mostly, he wanted to know who was willing to talk to him. "Just . . . How have things been, since I left?"

Fai shrugged, the whole laundry basket shifting with him. "We missed you, but everything's fine. No harm done."

_No visible harm, anyway. _He stared down at his feet as he walked, watching them move over the floor. After his temporary paralysis, the rhythmic motions required to walk seemed somehow miraculous. "So things are just like they were in Infinity?"

"No, not exactly." Fai shifted the basket again so he could get a hand free to open the door. A cloud of steam rose through the narrow opening, much warmer than the surrounding air. The magician glanced over, as if to make sure Syaoran was still there, then swept into the steamy room. "Infinity was dreary and dangerous. But here, we can relax."

"Relax?"

Fai nodded, setting the basket down and picking a pile of towels from it to lay on the shelf. "We've all hurt each other enough. It's time to leave that behind and start over."

"Start over?" Syaoran echoed.

"Mm-hmm."

He stared at the magician, not quite believing what he'd heard. _Start over? _he thought. _Start over _now_, after all the damage I've done?_ He shook his head. His hair waved in front of his eyes, having grown out considerably since Tokyo. _I really need a haircut, don't I?_

"Is there anything else you wanted to ask?" Fai said, after a few moments of silence. He picked up the empty basket and started for the laundry room.

"Why is everyone being so nice to me? How can any of you trust me?"

"I told you. We're starting over."

"That's not—" He bit his lip, turning away. "That doesn't make sense. You should hate me now more than ever."

Fai lost his smile, his face turning unnaturally somber. He glanced around, noting the different servants scampering in and out of the laundry room. Despite the rush of activity, Fai evidently thought that where they stood was private enough for their conversation; he sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. A patch of sunlight shone on the floor a few feet away from him, bright and warm as it streamed in from the window.

Fai beckoned. Syaoran sat down beside him.

"In Cirrus, we fought," Fai began, head tilted up toward the ceiling as if he found it fascinating. Perhaps he did; the patterns in the wood varied, never repeating themselves in precisely the same configuration. "In that fight, you gained the upper hand. You could have easily killed me then." He paused.

"Yes . . ." Syaoran said, waiting for the magician to explain.

"Why didn't you?"

Syaoran blinked. "Because that would've been wrong."

Fai nodded, as if he'd expected this answer. "I thought you were going to do it—I deserved it after the way I treated you in Infinity, and I could see why you'd hate me enough to kill me, given how I almost killed you. But you surprised me."

Fai's eyebrows pulled together, and he hesitated before continuing. "Later that night, when I saw you in the city, you said something to me. You said I would never understand you. And you're probably right. But if there's one thing I _do _understand, it's that you'd never do anything to harm me or Kuro-pon or Sakura-chan."

"That's hardly a reason," Syaoran criticized. "I wouldn't be able to hurt Kurogane-san, even if I wanted to, and I got lucky in our fight. And Sakura . . . I would never hurt her, if I could help it."

Fai smiled. "And that's the best anyone can do, right? Trying not to hurt the people we care about most. But sometimes we fail, and we hurt them by accident."

Beyond the window, a cloud covered the sun.

"We all mourned when we thought you were dead," Fai said quietly, turning somber as the sunshine dimmed. "Out of all of us, I think you hurt Kuro-sama the most."

Syaoran looked away. "He must have been furious with me."

"Oh, he was. But . . . sometimes, I wonder if he felt more guilt over letting you leave than I felt when I thought I'd killed you."

Syaoran shook his head. "He has no reason to feel guilty."

"But he _does _feel guilty," Fai said, his voice overflowing with conviction. "I _know _he does. I've felt it through the blood bond."

Syaoran shook his head more vigorously. "It doesn't matter. We've finally landed in his world. He'll want to stay here."

The blood seeped out of Fai's face. "Did he say that?"

"No, but . . . Of course he'd want to stay here. That was his wish, when he arrived in Yuuko's shop. It would be selfish of me to expect him to continue this journey, especially _now_."

The magician shook his head, but remained mute. Belatedly, Syaoran realized what that meant for Fai. _He needs Kurogane-san's blood to survive. Fai can't leave this world without him. And his wish was to travel to as many different worlds as possible. _A new thought crept in, dislodging the others. _If Fai has to stay here . . . I still need to help Sakura find her feathers. Will I be able to do that, without either of them? Will I be able to keep us both alive?_

Suddenly, the world seemed horribly unstable. Syaoran stood, indecisive. Should he beg Kurogane to continue the journey, knowing he'd be shattering the ninja's hope to remain here? Even if he begged, what were the odds the ninja would listen to him? He'd done nothing to deserve such kindness, and everything to inspire antipathy from the others. How could he ask for something like that?

_Should I try to go alone to search for the feathers? _he wondered, wrapping his arms around his torso as if he was cold. As if he could feel cold anymore. _No. I wouldn't survive more than a few worlds without help. I'm useless. _

Fai had regained his composure. "I'll talk to Kuro-chan tonight. Don't worry."

"No. No, I'll talk to him. I have to . . ." _I have to apologize. I have to make amends, before I go. _He started for the door, heart beating faster. "I have to talk to him."

"Syaoran-kun?"

He hesitated in the doorway. _How much must've changed for him to be addressing me like I'm a real person? _"Yes?"

"Don't worry so much. Everything will be fine."

Syaoran looked at the magician for one moment, trying to decide how much of that last statement was a lie and how much was wishful thinking. Then he went outside.


	93. Sparred

Chapter Ninety-Three

The clash of wooden swords scared off every bird in the vicinity.

Syaoran approached, pausing at the corner of Shirasagi castle to make sure it was Kurogane-san and not another ninja. An elaborate garden stretched out before him. Ivy clung to stone walls, fingerlike projections spreading out as if to hold the round rocks together. Shrubs lined the outer perimeter, some shaped into spheres, some into other forms. Rings of colorful flowers marked different sections of the garden. In the far corner, a _sakura _tree stood in full bloom, larger and healthier than any he'd ever seen.

At the center of it all stood Kurogane-san and the princess. As Syaoran stood there, she lashed out with a wooden sword. Kurogane-san moved to block the attack, not even shifting his stance as he fended her off. A moment later, Sakura tried again, coming at the ninja from the side. Syaoran watched her stance change and noted how good her form was, despite the slight favoring of her crippled leg.

The metal bolt in his pocket suddenly felt heavy.

_I should wait, _he thought, retreating behind the corner. A cloud passed in front of the sun, casting a shadow over the tranquil garden. Syaoran looked up, and noticed the sickly gray wall of stratus clouds creeping over the castle. _There's going to be a storm, _he thought.

The sound of crashing swords continued, and Syaoran refocused his attention on the pair in the clearing. The movements were familiar to him; the Other had gone through the same drills a hundred times since receiving Hien. Syaoran had practiced those drills in the time he'd traveled with Seishirou, trying to acquire the muscle memory to use his sword effectively.

He sighed softly, wondering if those drills were going to be all he had left of his teacher after he moved on to the next world.

The dance continued for almost an hour. Syaoran was content to watch. Surely, Kurogane-san wouldn't trust him to do more than watch after everything. _He barely trusted me with drills in Infinity, _Syaoran thought, noting a flaw in Sakura's stance as he watched. He heard Kurogane correct her, watched her move to the correct position.

In Clow, Sakura had been somewhat uncoordinated. Part of it had been the growth spurts of adolescence, but much of her clumsiness had come from a lack of physical activity. Since she was the princess, she didn't have to do anything strenuous to support her family or herself. But Syaoran could see a distinct grace in her movements as she sparred with Kurogane. Her coordination had improved dramatically since she'd started training.

_More than that, _he thought. _She doesn't hesitate. She's learning how to defend herself. _

Minutes passed, and Syaoran felt a drop of rain on his shoulder. He looked up to see the stratus clouds stretching over most of the sky. Another raindrop hit him in the eye.

In the garden, the sparring match subsided. Kurogane muttered something about the weather and ordered Sakura to go inside. By the time Syaoran heard her footsteps on the porch, the stray drops of rain had transformed into a light drizzle.

_I should go back inside, _he thought, but his body stayed where it sat. In the distance, he heard a rumble of thunder. Rivulets of rain ran down his face, soaking his hair. _I guess I can skip the bath for today, _he thought, closing his eyes and running his hand through his too-long hair.

Another rumble, still far away.

Something tapped his elbow. His head jerked up to see Kurogane towering over him. "You should go inside," the ninja said.

Syaoran braced one hand on the ground to help him stand, then frowned as the palm of his hand came away slick with mud. He held it out for the rain to wash away.

"There any particular reason you're skulking around like this?"

He considered lying, saying he'd just been getting some fresh air. But all his lies had done so far was mess things up. "I wanted to talk to you. But it doesn't matter now." He half-turned, ashamed he'd even considered asking the ninja to leave this place now that he'd finally found it.

A hand came down on his shoulder, stopping him. "What did you want to say?"

Syaoran shook his head. "It really doesn't matter."

Kurogane sighed, not removing his hand from Syaoran's shoulder. After several seconds, the ninja spoke again. "Okay, let's make a deal. We're going to spar. Every time you score a hit, you get to ask me a question. Every time I score a hit, I ask you a question. No lies, no evasions, just honest answers. Got it?"

Syaoran looked up uncertainly, water rushing down from his hair. His teacher handed him one of the practice swords and led him toward the middle of the garden, where he'd been sparring with Sakura only a few moments ago.

"Ready?" Kurogane asked, when they reached the clearing. Syaoran bowed deeply, then lifted the wooden sword to defend himself.

"Ready."

Kurogane moved first, his sword coming around almost leisurely. Syaoran lifted his own weapon to block, knowing the effortless act was just a façade. That was the mark of an expert—making something difficult look as easy as breathing.

The blow was still harder than Syaoran had expected, knocking his sword aside easily despite the coils of resistance in his arms. A fraction of a second later, Kurogane shifted, switching his angle of attack. The "blade" slammed into Syaoran's wrist hard enough to make his hand go numb.

"Okay, first question," Kurogane said. "What are your nightmares about?"

Syaoran blinked, massaging his wrist. He hadn't been sure what kinds of questions the ninja would ask, but this was one of the last he would've expected. "My nightmares?"

"You toss in your sleep. You never used to do that."

Syaoran looked down, steeling himself to tell the truth. "Mostly, I dream of the Other. I watch him as he moves between dimensions, searching for feathers. I don't know _why _I see him in my dreams, but . . ." He shrugged. "I haven't dreamed of him since I started taking the medicine Seishirou gave me."

"Medicine?"

Syaoran nodded, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Medicine to suppress the dreams. Seishirou was holding onto it in the last world, so I don't have it anymore." He looked up, to see if his answers had satisfied the ninja.

Kurogane nodded once, then took a fighting stance.

They sparred a bit longer this time. With his vampire speed, Syaoran was able to deflect his teacher's attacks for almost a minute before the tip of the wooden sword jabbed his shoulder. He lowered his sword and waited for the next question.

"You had bruises on your neck when we saw you in Sapphirine. What were they from?"

His fingers automatically rose to the vulnerable flesh of his throat. "Seishirou tried to strangle me, right before we reached the bottom of the canyon."

A look of cold fury swept across the ninja's face. Syaoran retreated half a step, struggling to justify the bruises. "He was trying to provoke me into killing him. That would've fulfilled the requirements of his wish. He wasn't actually trying to kill me."

Kurogane's features shifted to skepticism, but he said nothing, merely raising his sword. Their dance began again, picking up the pace as Syaoran struggled to block every attack. The sound of the wooden blades smashing into each other exploded above the hiss of rain. With every step, the ninja drove him back, his years of skill more than a match for Syaoran's supernatural strength and speed. The moment he realized he was retreating, he lunged forward, thrusting the tip of his sword toward the ninja's ribs. He struck a glancing blow before his feet slid across the mud and brought him crashing down on his tailbone.

A hand extended out to him in a silent offer. Syaoran took it, hoping the rain would wash the mud off his clothes. It took him a moment to remember it was his turn to ask a question. _I should ask him if he plans to stay here in Nihon, _he thought, remembering his reason for coming here in the first place.

The words stuck in his throat; he looked down. _What if he is? How am I supposed to respond to that? _

"Kid? You okay?"

"My question . . ." He hesitated, eyebrows coming together. _And here I thought answering would be the hard part. _"Why did you come back for me at the canyon? Why not just let me die?"

"I'm not a monster," the ninja snapped. "I wasn't going to leave you behind to get eaten."

"It wasn't just because you had to get the feather?"

Irritation flashed across the ninja's face. "_No_. Look, if that was all we'd wanted, we _would _have left you down there. But it wasn't. We didn't want you to die."

A stinging sensation wrapped around the inside of his throat. Syaoran swallowed. "Okay."

Kurogane sighed and moved back into a fighting stance. Their swords met only twice before the ninja's weapon connected with Syaoran's ribs. "In Cirrus, you shot a bolt of lightning into the middle of the fight. Did you intend for that to hit one of us, or were you just trying to scatter us?"

Syaoran exhaled. That, at least, was an easy question. "I wanted to keep Sakura away from your fight so she wouldn't get hurt trying to stop you. So I split the battlefield with a bolt of lightning to keep her away."

Kurogane nodded.

Syaoran managed to block three attacks before he felt his teacher's practice sword tap his throat. Syaoran lowered his blade, resigned to another answer.

"How long were you in contact with Seishirou before you left?"

He had to think about that for a minute. "The first time I saw him in Infinity was the day I came back after you blindfolded me," he said, drawing the sentence out as he considered his next words. "But I didn't start making deals with him until after the fire."

"That long?"

Syaoran looked up, heart squeezing painfully at the accusation in Kurogane's voice. "I—I was . . . All I wanted was for him to leave the rest of you alone. He was dangerous. I _knew_ that. But then he told me about Fuuma, and I started feeling guilty for not helping him, and . . ." The words caught at the back of his throat. His breathing hitched like he was about to sob, and he turned his face away, humiliated. "I _knew _it was stupid, that I was risking everything, but Seishirou had never let me down. _Never_." His mind flashed back to the canyon, to the feeling of hands wrapping around his throat, to images of the blood running down Seishirou's lips as he took his dying breaths. Until then, Seishirou had never failed him. Until that final, brutal betrayal, he'd allowed himself to trust the man.

"And I did," Kurogane said softly. It took Syaoran a moment to realize he was responding to the last part of his answer.

"No," he said, shaking his head. Droplets of water flew from his hair, like water off a dog. "No, that's not it—"

Kurogane raised a hand and moved it to the top of Syaoran's head, tousling his soaked hair. "It's okay."

_Okay?_ Syaoran thought, gasping in another breath. Tears leaked out the corners of his eyes, much warmer than the chilling rain. His hands rose up to cover his face as he began to cry in earnest.

"Don't. It's okay," Kurogane said, seeming at a loss. Syaoran clamped his hand tighter across his lips to stifle the sobs. He wasn't sure which of them was more embarrassed—him, for crying, or his teacher, for having to watch.

Syaoran forced the sobs to subside, then lifted his practice sword. His legs trembled under him as he assumed a fighting stance. "I'm not done asking questions."

"That's enough for tonight," Kurogane said.

His voice quavered. "_No_. I'm not done."

The ninja stepped forward and pulled the wooden sword out of his hands. He tossed their weapons into the mud and rested a hand on each of Syaoran's shoulders. He slumped under the pressure. "You don't have to fight anymore," Kurogane said. "Just ask whatever you want to ask."

Syaoran lifted his face to the rain, vision blurring. Quietly, he asked, "Do you hate me?"

Thunder roared in the sky, much closer than it had been a few minutes ago. Kurogane pulled him into an awkward, one-armed embrace. He said only one word. "No."


	94. Bloodstained

Chapter Ninety-Four

The rain beat down harder the longer they stood there, but Syaoran didn't care.

Kurogane didn't hate him.

Even before he'd arrived in Tokyo, Syaoran had trusted the red-eyed man. His teacher had never lied to the Other, had never tried to cover up any part of who he was. Honor was embedded in his every action and word. So when the ninja said he didn't hate him, Syaoran believed it.

"This storm's turning into a monsoon," Kurogane finally said, releasing him from the awkward embrace. Syaoran took a step back, wiping the moisture away from his eyes. Any other time, it would've been humiliating to cry in front of the ninja. But today was different. Today, there were no judgments.

It was . . . a relief.

"Lunch is probably ready," Kurogane said, picking their discarded practice swords out of the mud and shaking them off.

"Right." Syaoran half-turned toward the castle, then hesitated, unsure if there was a procedure for leaving and entering. As Kurogane passed him, he decided to follow instead of trying to find his way in alone.

It seemed his choice had been the correct one, as a pair of guards stood inside the doors, waiting to intercept any visitors. Kurogane pulled a wooden token from his _hakama _and held it up for them to see. The guards bowed their heads, then inquired about Syaoran.

"He's my apprentice," Kurogane explained shortly. "He goes wherever I go."

The guards exchanged a glance, then nodded. "Understood, Lord Suwa."

They stepped out of the rain, dripping water all over the floor. Once they were out of earshot of the guards, Syaoran turned to his teacher. "So, I'm still your apprentice?"

"What else would you be?"

The corners of his lips twitched into a smile, his heart swelling with relief. _He meant it. He doesn't hate me at all. _

They reached the end of the corner and turned. Something shifted in Syaoran's peripheral vision, muscles went rigid, preparing to attack before he identified the figure. He turned, eyes glowing gold as adrenaline flooded his veins, and saw the Other.

"What?" Kurogane demanded, hand going to Souhi's hilt. Syaoran stared off into the corridor, any semblance of joy vanishing from his mind.

The Other stared at him with mismatched eyes and smirked.

_Another hallucination, _Syaoran thought, focusing his magic in the center of his mind and pushing the illusion away. The Other's figure rippled and disappeared as his mental shield restored itself. _Of course. I can't let my guard down. _

He forced himself to relax and turned back to his mentor. "It's nothing. I'm just jumping at shadows."

Kurogane looked at him for a long moment, then released Souhi's hilt. He didn't say a word.

They kept moving, the peaceful mood shattered. Syaoran kept his mental shield up, fumbling with it for a few minutes as he got used to it again. Ever since learning how to shield his mind, he'd been doing his best to keep himself guarded wherever he went. The chaos of rejoining his friends had driven that precaution out of his realm of thought.

_I can't let this happen again. I have to make sure my thoughts are my own. _

"Here," Kurogane said suddenly. A flash of white drew Syaoran's attention, and his hands shot out automatically to catch the bundle. As it unfurled in his grasp, he recognized it as a towel. "Dry yourself off. You're dripping everywhere."

He nodded and started scrubbing the rainwater from his face and arms. Outside, he could still hear rain splattering against the grass and dirt. Suddenly, the bad weather seemed ominous. If the Other could still slip into his thoughts, he could almost certainly still drift into his dreams. _And if that happens, he might be able to control me at my most vulnerable. I have to do something to guard against that. _

He realized he'd been drying the same spot for almost a minute. He stopped.

Kurogane watched him for a second or two, puzzled, then started down the corridor again. "The dining room's this way."

Syaoran followed, trying to focus on what he was doing instead of dwelling on the threat his clone presented.

Kurogane opened up another door and stepped inside. As they entered, a familiar voice pierced the air.

"I decided to make something warm, since it's raining—oh, Syaoran! It's good to see you."

He stared at Sakura for a long moment, touched by the sentiment. She'd changed out of her training outfit and into the pink and white gown she'd worn in Clow. Her hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, strands flying free of the hair binder. In her hands was a tray of tea.

"Come, sit down," she said, kneeling down on a cushion beside the short table and setting the tray in front of her. She picked up the ornate kettle and set aside one of the cups, filling it methodically before presenting it to Syaoran. He took it, cradling it between his fingers as if the gesture of goodwill was likely to fracture in his hands.

"Thank you," he said.

Sakura poured another cup for Kurogane, then one for herself. "One of Tomoyo-chan's handmaids showed me the proper way of pouring tea. Wasn't that nice of her?"

There was a rumble of agreement from both of them. Syaoran watched Sakura take a sip of her own tea before retreating into the kitchen. The smell of baked goods permeated the air, so sweet it made Syaoran want to eat again, though he had no need for human food.

"She missed you a lot," Kurogane offered unexpectedly. Syaoran looked up from his tea.

For once, he wasn't inclined to deny anything. "I missed her, too."

"And she's changed a lot. She's stronger than the girl you remember, both emotionally and physically."

"I know that."

The ninja nodded, as if in approval of his response. He sipped at his tea, a surprisingly delicate motion for him.

Sakura swept into the room again, bearing a basket of bread rolls. She set these down on the table, presenting them as if they were the finest delicacies in this world. As far as Syaoran was concerned, they were.

He bit into the first bread roll, savoring the taste. He hadn't eaten real food since the dinner Sadie's mother had cooked for him in Sapphirine. _Sadie's probably mourning over her father's death by now, _he thought, adding that family to the long list of people who'd suffered because of his actions. Suddenly, the bread tasted sour in his mouth.

"Syaoran? Are you all right?"

His head snapped up, and he forced a smile. "I'm fine."

Sakura pursed her lips as if she didn't quite believe him. "Do you not like the bread?"

"I like it," he assured her. Her skeptical expression solidified, and he went on, trying to repair the damage he'd done. "I was just . . . dwelling on some things that happened in the last world. That's all."

Her pink lips curled into a frown.

"What things?" Kurogane asked.

Syaoran hesitated. _How is it that everything I say ends up hitting me in the face? Does the universe hate me? _He bit a chunk off the bread roll, giving himself an excuse not to speak. _What should I say? That I watched Seishirou kill a man, and I'm feeling guilty about it? They'll think I did nothing to stop it. _

He swallowed slowly, still unsure what to say. "I . . ." _Am I defending Seishirou with my silence? Can I justify keeping this from them, or do they really not need to know? And can I keep _any _secrets from them when they've just started being nice to me? _

"You don't have to say it," Kurogane said, when he didn't finish.

The assurance decided him. "No. I'm not going to lie anymore." He lifted his eyes to meet Sakura's gaze. "It's not the bread. I was thinking about how Seishirou pushed someone off a cliff in Sapphirine, and how that's probably affecting that man's family, and the fact that I might've been able to stop it if I'd been able to predict Seishirou's actions. It's . . . It's nothing you can fix, so . . ."

Sakura's eyes widened with horror. She lifted a hand to her lips, as if to muffle the scream building at the back of her throat.

Before she could make a sound, he rose to his feet and dropped the roll on the table. "I'm sorry," he told her, unable to look her in the eye. "But I can't . . . _be _here right now."

"Syaoran . . ."

He turned away, grabbing the handle on the wall and sliding it open. _Even now, I'm a monster, _he thought, running down the corridors that led to his room. The walls seemed to close in around him, warping whenever he looked at them. He accelerated, his speed jumping up to supernatural levels. Even so, by the time he made it to his room, his lungs were tight with panic, his hands shaking with horror at what he'd allowed to happen.

When Seishirou had thrown that man off the stairs in the chasm . . . that had been the exact moment of his betrayal. Not when he'd plotted to steal his magic to save Fuuma. Not even when he'd slapped him the night before. No. Seishirou had betrayed him when he'd spilled the blood of an innocent and smeared it all over Syaoran's already bloodstained hands.


	95. Escaped

Chapter Ninety-Five

Syaoran stayed in his room only a minute or two before the stress overpowered him. "Shit," he murmured, curling up at the foot of his mattress. "Shit . . ."

He sat there, fingers pressed to his temples as if doing so would assuage the pain of Seishirou's betrayal.

It didn't.

Abruptly, he leaned forward and started digging through the blankets for the cloak Kurogane had retrieved for him. It was buried at the bottom of the pile, under his discarded clothes. Syaoran clutched the black piece of cloth to his chest, trying to fight the sobs clawing their way up his throat.

Seishirou had lied to him, betrayed him, manipulated him, and Syaoran still couldn't let him go.

"Shit . . ." he whispered again, dragging the back of his hand across his face. It came back sticky with tears.

Suddenly, the room seemed too small. Suffocating. Like a plastic bag stretched over his head. He had to get out of here.

Clutching Seishirou's cloak to his chest, he slipped out of his room and headed toward the exit at the end of the corridor.

"Going somewhere?"

He froze, breath catching in the back of his throat.

"You know by now that vampires have a heightened sense of hearing," Fai said, his footsteps creaking against the wooden floors. "I could hear you over the storm, _and_ the palace gossip."

Syaoran didn't turn. Couldn't.

"Where are you going?" Fai asked, his voice softening.

_Away. Far away. _"I don't know."

"That storm is getting pretty fierce."

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"Yes."

There was a pause. Fai sighed, his volume dropping low. "I won't stop you. You need time to grieve."

"No, that's not—" He broke off, not sure what he was doing. He didn't need to grieve, he needed . . . what? Closure? To stand in the rain for a while? To be alone?

"I won't stop you," Fai repeated. "But come back this time, okay?"

Through the sharp pain in his throat, he could barely choke out a response. "Okay."

"I'll tell the others not to worry, so don't do anything that would force them to, okay?"

_You're starting to sound like Kurogane-san, _Syaoran thought, hearing the trace of authority in the magician's voice. Then again, he'd always sensed something under the surface with Fai. Something buried deep that flickered to life every once in a while, like a candle lit by a spirit.

He managed to nod before he ripped open the door. Frigid rain splattered his hair.

* * *

><p>Sakura stared at the dining room door, too stunned to speak. <em>Seishirou killed someone? And made Syaoran <em>watch_? _she thought, shuddering. Her pulse pounded in her throat, clamping off any words she might've said.

"Damn," Kurogane muttered, his tea and bread roll all but forgotten on the table. He stood. "Kid!"

_I should never have pushed for an answer, _she thought. _Of course there are things he wouldn't want to tell us. _She stepped forward, wincing at the sound her leg brace made when it hit the ground. Though her leg was stronger, and the brace sturdier, the constant reminder of her deformity irked her.

That didn't matter now. What mattered was that she'd hurt Syaoran, and she had to make things right before he disappeared again. She sprinted after him. "Syaoran!"

"He's probably back in his room," Kurogane said, moving with her to the door. It hung open after Syaoran's hasty exit.

Sakura nodded. "Right." They ran down the hallway, knowing how much ground they had to make up. If Syaoran could move at supernatural speed like Fai, that meant he could've already made it to his room and closed the door behind him. With every step she took, the bottom of her brace _clunked _against the floor, a reminder of how weak she was, how crippled she'd become.

How helpless she was to relieve his suffering.

It took them a good three minutes to arrive at Syaoran's room. It was placed as far from their own quarters as possible, for reasons that made little sense to Sakura. He'd been so badly hurt when they'd come here—how could he have been a threat to anyone?

Fai stood outside Syaoran's door, his face back to the grim expression he'd worn in Infinity. Sakura felt her heart drop into her stomach.

Yet she couldn't stop herself. She swept past Fai and ripped Syaoran's door open. She had to see the evidence for herself.

There was no way the room could ever look cluttered, as few pieces of furniture as there was. But the blankets had been tossed haphazardly off the straw mattress, which sat at an oblique angle to the line of the wall. A wooden cylinder had been knocked over nearby, perhaps cast aside in his frantic rush to escape. From the lip, a crimson droplet hung, threatening to fall onto the floor.

Sakura turned back to Fai, moving as if both her legs were crippled. "He's gone."

"He's coming back this time. He told me so."

Kurogane responded before she could. "You _let _him go? Out _there_?"

"He was on the verge of a panic attack."

The ninja moved as if he was about to strike the mage. Fai's shoulders stiffened, his eyes flashing gold. Kurogane managed to hold his temper and start yelling instead. "Do you realize how _dangerous _this world is? What if he strays beyond the wards? He doesn't know what he's _doing_."

"He's shown himself to be a capable magician in his own right. I'm sure he's smart enough to stay behind the wards."

"What if he doesn't come back? What if he gets caught up in a landslide caused by the rain? He could _die_!"

Fai's voice was cold. "You think commanding him to stay here will do him any good? If we don't give him his freedom, he'll run away for good. Look—" he added, intercepting the ninja's argument. "I don't like it either. If I'd thought it could've waited until conditions were better, I would've stopped him. But he needs time to grieve, and he needs it now."

Sakura stared at the escalating fight, heart hammering faster. _How could they fight like this when everything was just starting to get better? _she wondered. The muscles in her arms twitched, itching to rip her sword out of its sheath. _But my sword is gone, _she thought. _It broke in the canyon._

Kurogane continued to argue, reining in his fury a bit. "I have lived in this world, this _country_, all my life. I know the dangers better than anyone else, and even I can acknowledge how perilous this world is if you don't know what you're doing. I _will not_ let the kid wander out into a storm like this."

"Well, _I _wouldn't have let Sakura wander out into Tokyo at night!" Fai shouted. The mention of that incident flung Sakura back to the dying world, to the sudden agony in her leg as the metal rod pierced it, to the nausea she'd felt when she'd shot the monsters there.

_It's the same, _she thought, feeling the blood drain out of her face. _It's exactly the same situation._

The corridor fell silent, the last echoes of the argument fading away. Kurogane's crimson gaze overflowed with barely leashed fury. The line of his jaw stood rigid, the cords of his neck sticking up as he fought to control the rage boiling so close to the surface.

And then, so suddenly it made Sakura wonder what she'd missed, Kurogane sighed and leaned against the wall, perfectly calm. He closed his eyes for a moment, then tilted his head up to look at the ceiling. "So what now?" he asked. "Since you've been in this position before."

Fai hesitated, a dozen different emotions flitting across his face, too fast for Sakura to recognize. After a moment, he exhaled softly. "We wait. Warn the medical staff so they're ready when he comes back. Prepare ourselves for whatever's changed in him in the meantime."

The ninja nodded once, then cracked his knuckles. "Come on, Princess. There's a room where you can practice your techniques until the storm's over."

"But Syaoran—" She bit her lip, stemming the flow of words as she might stop the flow of blood from a cut. There was nothing she could say, now that the others were decided, that would sway them.

Nothing she could say to justify following Syaoran when he was making the same choice she'd made in Tokyo.

Kurogane looked at her, waiting to see if she'd finish her sentence. When she didn't, he started down the hallway again.

Sakura followed.


	96. Needed

Chapter Ninety-Six

Syaoran drifted.

He wandered past the castle grounds, beyond the ill-defined edges of the surrounding city, and into the wilderness. In the rain, there was no one to stare at him.

The walk reminded him distantly of the training exercise he'd endured in Infinity—the one where he'd walked blindfolded until his feet bled. Whenever his feet started to hurt now, however, the damage repaired itself.

_It's the vampire blood, _he thought, his arms convulsing around the black cloak in his hands.

Sometimes, the storm settled into nothing more than a heavy downpour, but most of the time, the raindrops flew sideways under the force of the wind. At its worst, Syaoran feared it might rip apart the cloak he was clutching so tight to his chest.

Part of him wished it would. That the wind would sheer through the dark folds and leave him with nothing to remind him of Seishirou's betrayal. But the piercing gales, though they frayed the edges of his own clothes, did little to the heavy cloth of the cloak. Once he moved into the first copse of trees, the wind subsided.

Despite this being a new world, he was on familiar terrain here. Fujitaka had led the Other through dozens of forests and jungles as they'd traveled together. Those memories, along with his supernatural agility, carried him over exposed roots and sudden dips in the ground without a conscious thought.

Water dripped less readily through the canopy, catching on the branches before filtering down to ground level. The only dangers here resided in the slick mud trying to make him lose his footing.

As he wandered, the clouds seemed to darken. Syaoran couldn't be sure whether this indicated a change in the intensity of the storm, or if the sun was setting. _It seems too early for that, _he thought numbly. _When I left, it was lunchtime._

He slowed, realizing the rain had raised bumps on his skin. _I can't feel cold like I used to, but my skin reacts the same way to low temperatures. _He stared at the bumps, noting how pale and wrinkled his skin looked. It was as if he'd fallen asleep in a bathtub.

Slowly, he lowered his arm and moved it back to the cloak. He'd nearly forgotten it was there. His gaze traced the soaked folds.

"What am I doing?" he whispered to himself, shaking his head. Rain continued to filter down through the leaves.

_I can't hold onto this thing, _he thought. _I have to bury it. I have to put Seishirou to rest and move on. _

He glanced around, looking for a suitable spot. With the ground turning to mud, there wasn't much for variety. He knelt down next to a patch of mud near a tree, hoping the proximity to the roots would keep the dirt from being washed away in the storm. His fingers dug through the squishy mud, boring a deep hole in the ground. His claws slid out, carving deeper trenches. Given their length, he was surprised they were not more fragile. Each claw seemed as tough as if it had been forged of iron.

Syaoran finished with his task quickly, digging a two foot deep hole in the dirt. Rivulets of water poured in from the sides, soaking the soil it had not yet touched.

He dangled Seishirou's cloak over the pit. Then he let it come down in his lap. The rain cleared his fingernails of most of the mud, but he could feel the layer of grit in the crevasse between his fingernail and the flesh of his fingertips.

_A burial should be done with more ceremony than this. Even if there isn't a body to bury . . ._ He exhaled, then lifted the cloak up again. Still sopping wet. He twisted it up and wrung it out, letting a fountain of water spill onto the dirt. That would probably be as dry as it got; he folded it up and let it rest in his lap for a minute.

"Sometimes people aren't what we expect them to be," he began, voice shaking as he tried to think of something to say to honor Seishirou's death. "I was never sure what you were—not in Clow, not in Outo, and not during our travels. I could never figure you out. But you really did help me, and . . ." He bit his lip. _Say it, _he told himself. _This is your last chance. Say it. _"Thank you. For putting up with me, for saving my life. And for teaching me some important lessons about trust."

He laid the cloak in the pit and moved the loose dirt over it, packing it down. If the ground had been dry, it would've been easy to identify the spot where it was buried.

_The rain will wash the top layer of soil away, _Syaoran thought with finality. _The rain will wash it all away. _

He sat back, closing his eyes.

It was in that moment, when his eyes were closed and his guard was down, that he felt a hand coil around his hair.

* * *

><p>Kurogane raised the wooden sword, only distantly cognizant of their sparring match. The princess retreated half a step, breathing hard as she prepared to deliver another blow. Kurogane waited, letting his senses stretch out. The percussive <em>tap <em>of the rain against the exterior walls mingled with the low murmurs of the palace servants. Kendappa passed through the hallway behind him, ordering one of her assistants to retrieve her rain cloak. Water ran down the shingles.

It was a numbing melody, the kind that encouraged inattention and fostered boredom, and even though Kurogane knew the boy was out in the storm, he found his attention wandering. Almost thirty seconds had passed before he realized Sakura had not tried to attack him yet. Usually, it took her only three or four seconds to catch her breath, less now that she was becoming more practiced. "What is it?" he asked, lowering the tip of his sword a few inches.

The princess blinked, head jerking up as if her attention had been diverted as well. Her eyes were troubled. "It's . . ." She closed her mouth, eyes flitting to the wall behind her. It was the nearest wall to the outside of the palace, and the rain beat more insistently on that side of the room than it did on the others.

"You're afraid for him?" he guessed.

The princess didn't answer, but after a moment, she lowered her sword and walked toward the wall. When she reached it, she lifted a hand up to touch the paper. He watched her lips move, but no sound came out.

"You know something I don't know?" he asked, irritated.

"Syaoran's out there somewhere."

"Yeah. We already knew that."

She shook her head, as if he'd missed the point of her statement. "He's out there alone. Really alone."

_Looks like we're done training for the day, _the ninja thought, letting the practice sword slide into the wooden cylinder standing in the corner. He walked over to the princess, resting a hand on top of her head. "I thought you were fine with him going out."

"He's been gone for hours."

"He needs time to grieve," Kurogane said. _The mage was right about _that _at least. Even if that bastard doesn't deserve it. _

Sakura stood up taller. "He needs me," she said.

"You want to go looking for him _now_?"

She nodded and turned toward him. "I'm going to need a raincoat, and a real sword, in case we run into any danger."

Kurogane leaned back, surprised at how easily she gave the orders. Sure, she was a princess, but he'd never known her to give _commands_. The closest she ever came to that were polite inquiries about what she could and could not have, what she could or could not do. _Except in Tokyo, _he thought. _She didn't ask for an explanation in Tokyo. She didn't ask to go out into the rain. She demanded those._

Kurogane had followed others ever since he'd been old enough to understand obedience. First his parents, to whom he'd owed everything, and then to Tomoyo, who had both the heritage and the ability to command. And though he'd made plenty of choices on his own, Kurogane didn't think there was much room to argue on this one.

Maybe the boy did need the princess. Maybe he needed her a lot more than he'd let on in Infinity.

"All right," he said, shrugging as if this was the most natural arrangement in the world. "Let's go."


	97. Galloped

Chapter Ninety-Seven

Syaoran's first reaction was to call his sword to his hands.

It didn't work.

"_We left it in the canyon so you wouldn't use it on us,_" Kurogane had said, minutes after he'd woken up in Nihon. The ninja had claimed it was a joke, that Mokona had it, that it hadn't been abandoned in Sapphirine.

But he didn't have it _now_, and he needed it.

"_And you're not getting it back until I say so!"_

Syaoran whipped around, his hair yanking free of his scalp by the roots. He raised an arm to protect himself, stomach knotting as the familiar presence registered with him.

With Seishirou dead, and Fei Wong Reed hidden away in his secluded lair, Syaoran could think on only one person who would try to kill him.

_Of course, _he thought, opening his eyes to take in the blue and brown irises of the Other. _I won't be free of you until one of us is dead._

"It pays to look above," the Other said. Syaoran froze, startled by the fact that the Other had spoken at all, and even more startled by the smile on his face. Perhaps it was these things that prompted him to obey instead of sending a bolt of lightning through his clone, or perhaps he'd learned enough from his lessons in Infinity to recognize the real threat. He looked up.

Concealed by the dripping leaves, the sound of its movement masked by the hissing rain, the demon had put itself in the perfect position for an ambush. As Syaoran looked up, the Other's image shivered out of view, intangible as any hallucination.

Once, Syaoran had flipped through Kurogane's memories with a magic book. He'd seen the destruction the demons of this world had wrought, and realized how much more powerful these monsters were than the digital creations of Outo. But until he saw the speed at which the demon flung itself from the branches, he would never had guessed at the sheer, instinctive panic the misshapen creatures could cause him.

It was only by instinct that he threw himself to the side before the demon crashed down on him. He rolled, wincing as a root dug into his ribcage. Above him, the demon righted itself and brought its glistening black pincers down where he'd hit the ground. He gasped, bringing his arms up. The demon lifted its claws for a second attack.

Syaoran had just enough time to choke out a spell before the demon's pincer buried itself in his chest.

* * *

><p>Something was wrong.<p>

Sakura knew it, but she didn't know _what _was wrong until Tomoyo intercepted them in the hallway.

"The demons have pierced the wards!" the dreamseer yelled. Her hands were coiled around the hem of her dress so the fabric wouldn't impede her movement as she ran.

"What?" Kurogane demanded, his head whipping around. Sakura tried to identify the expression on his face. It wasn't _fear_ that tinged his response with such urgency, but there was an intensity there that had been absent when they'd been preparing for their mission.

"The southern border of Edo," Tomoyo said, modulating her voice now that she had everyone's attention. "Dozens of demons have pierced the border wards. They're heading north now."

_We have to stop them. _The words weren't spoken, but everyone heard them.

"Bring me the swords," Kurogane snapped at one of Tomoyo's servants. Sakura might've flinched at his tone if the words hadn't confused her so. _Swords? _she thought, head tilting to the side. _More than one? _

The servant was already sprinting down the corridor. Sakura looked up to see the ninja bowing his head to Tomoyo. "I'll take care of this."

"Your swords, Lord Suwa," the servant said as he returned with a bundle of silk. Sakura watched the ninja unwrap them.

There were two blades. One wore a handle made of white wood, accented with subtle etchings that gave the impression of flower petals. The steel of that one glimmered even in the limited torchlight of the corridors.

The other blade sported a hilt made of some dark wood, almost black except for the brown undertones. A wolf's head was inscribed in a circle on the wide part of the handle. The steel of this blade matched that of the first blade.

"They're still forging the sheaths, but the swords are finished," said the servant who'd brought them out.

"Good enough," Kurogane said, thrusting the white-hilted blade toward Sakura. She flinched back, then took the sword by the handle. He turned to her, eyes sharp. "Be careful with that. It's much better steel than you're used to; it'll cut you if you're not careful."

She nodded once, then turned for the end of the corridor. The ninja moved past her, pulling the door open.

She didn't have to ask who the other sword was for.

Rain splattered against the cloak they'd found for her. Rivulets of rainwater ran down Kurogane's armor, washing over the metal like it would over a turtle's shell. "There are horses this way," he said. The words came out fast and urgent. Whatever threat these demons presented, it must've been greater than she'd realized.

"Do you think Syaoran is there?" she asked.

"Don't know. Maybe."

They reached the stables then. Kurogane flung the door open and went straight to the back of the structure. There, he opened another door and pulled a black gelding from the stall. It nickered a greeting. _That must be his horse, _Sakura thought irrelevantly, eyes scanning the other stalls for potential mounts. None of the horses seemed too eager to venture out into the storm.

"Take this one," Kurogane said, freeing a gray mare from her stall. "She's docile."

Sakura took the reins and led the mare out of the stables, heart pounding. She remembered riding camels in Clow, though she'd preferred to walk if it was an option. Somehow, she didn't think the leisurely pace of those animals would measure up to the gallop of the horses. And even in the country of Jade, where horses were the primary mode of transportation, she'd never ridden faster than a trot.

"Hold on tight to the reins. She'll follow my lead," Kurogane said, already on his horse. Sakura pulled herself into the saddle and started after the ninja.

Something had happened. Every bone in her body vibrated with that cold certainty. Something had happened to Syaoran, and whatever it was had something to do with the demons breaking through the wards. She _knew_ it, knew it the same way she'd known where the emergency exit had been during the apartment fire in Infinity.

Her knuckles whitened with the force of her grip. She tried to relax while still maintaining a firm hold on the reins. The mare bounced under her, turning her stomach with its speed. _Stay calm, _she chanted to herself. _It's no faster than the dragonfly racers in Piffle. Just stay calm. _

The mare stepped up the pace even further, and she closed her eyes. The wind ripped her hood back and exposed her face to the downpour. _Syaoran went out alone in this storm, and you can't handle a horse ride? _part of her demanded. She forced her eyelids open and let the water run down her face.

_I won't lose you again, Syaoran. So don't give up on me._

A bolt of lightning exploded from the trees beyond the city. The resulting clap of thunder left her ears ringing. But there was no mistaking the direction of the lightning. Instead of coming down from the clouds, as it normally would, it shot up from the ground.

"He's there," Kurogane called over the thunder.

"Right." She dug her heels into the mare's side, pushing her faster. Her heart pounded in time with the hoof beats.

"Keep your sword at the ready," Kurogane said. "The demons here are quicker than the ones in Outo—they can kill you in a heartbeat."

_Lovely. _Her fingertips probed the smooth hilt of her sword, sliding the blade against her belt. When the tip of her index finger touched the dull side of the blade, she paused.

"_It's much better steel than you're used to," _Kurogane had said.

_Better steel indeed. _


	98. Muddied

Chapter Ninety-Eight

The demon's claws shredded through Syaoran's shirt and buried themselves six inches in his chest. His spell scattered, electricity shooting in every direction as the primary branch fried the monster that had injured him. He would've healed enough to move within a minute if the contact hadn't sent the lightning back through his own heart.

Syaoran was no stranger to pain—he'd endured plenty of physical and emotional agony before. But the combined impact of the stab wound and the electric shock immobilized him. It was all he could do to nudge the dead monster's pincer away from him before the weight of the corpse drove it deeper into his chest.

After that, he just laid there, feeling as if his lungs had imploded. _I'll be fine, _he thought numbly. _I'm a vampire now. I'll be fine . . . _

His adrenaline began to wear off, and the pain spiked. Every raindrop burned like the acid rain in Tokyo.

He started calling for help.

"Kurogane-san! Fai-san!" He choked on the words as they stole what little air he had. His chest shook with a brutal cough, and he spent another minute lying helpless on the ground.

Above him, the branches shifted and writhed. At first, he assumed it was the rain beating them down, just as it had been doing all day. But the movements weren't constant. Instead, the branches moved sporadically, in meandering patterns.

As if there was something moving through them.

The hole in his chest was slowly closing, but when he tried to move away from where he'd been lying, a wave of pain knocked him down again. He whimpered quietly. "Somebody . . . Somebody, please find me."

Shadows writhed amidst the drenched leaves. After several minutes, he dismissed the movements as hallucinations. He didn't know much of the demons in this country, but if they were more powerful than the oni of Outo, maybe they had different habits, too. Maybe they didn't swarm together to attack.

Besides, he'd had so many hallucinations lately. As long as it wasn't the Other . . .

That stirred a little tendril of curiosity in him. _Why did the Other appear to me right before I was attacked? Was he controlling the demons somehow? Surely he has enough power, as many feathers as he has. Like Seishirou— _He stopped the thought cold, wincing at the lash of pain that name caused him.

Evidently, burying the last relic of his old mentor hadn't been enough to rid himself of the guilt.

He took another breath, feeling the movements pull painfully at his wound, but not quite as harshly as before. After the blood he'd had, his body was recuperating quickly.

A few more minutes passed, and he almost forgot the shadows shifting in the trees. He rolled onto his side, testing his resilience. When that only left him gasping for a few minutes, he rolled onto his hands and knees. _There, _he thought. _I can start crawling back to the castle, at least. _He moved one hand forward, letting it sink into the mud before moving again. He crawled a few feet, then spent twice as long resting. Repeated the process a few times, always resting until the pain was tolerable again.

Another pause. Another few feet.

The shadows slid through the trees, following his every movement.

* * *

><p>They galloped toward the source of the lightning bolt as fast as their horses would travel. Mud and loose stones flew free of the ground as they passed over them.<p>

Sakura had gotten used to the rapid gallop, and the constant bounce was no more than a distant discomfort now. Her weeks of sword practice had left her body toned and more muscular than it had ever been. She could handle the stresses of horse riding.

"Demons," Kurogane muttered, tugging on his horse's reins and bringing it to a stop. Sakura did the same, her mare pushing past his and circling around with a whinny. The ninja dismounted and drew his sword. "Stay close and don't get killed."

Sakura blinked, then moved her sword so it pointed away from her, so that if she fell, she wouldn't stab herself. Just as she'd been taught.

"Stay on your guard," the ninja said, the words almost inaudible over the pouring rain. Sensing the need for stealth, she only nodded.

They moved into the dripping forest, leaving their horses behind. Sakura wondered if the animals would flee when they sensed danger, then figured Kurogane wouldn't have left them if they were likely to wander far.

They'd been walking for several minutes when Kurogane's body went rigid. Suddenly, he turned, his eyes darting to a dozen different spots in the trees within a second. "Shit.

"What?"

"They're _everywhere_."

She tensed, looking for the threat. But Kurogane hadn't taught her to sense unseen enemies as he'd taught Syaoran. She had no idea where the attack would come from, when it came.

And until it came, she had no idea how lethal the demons could be.

A dozen black figures ripped from the trees, descending on them like a pack of wolves. Sakura lifted her sword to fend them off, heart squeezing with panic. She heard Kurogane yell out one of his attacks, heard the subsequent explosion. Her new sword cut through empty air, the tip inches short of the demon's head. Close as she was, she could see the monster's hairy limbs twitching. Its body was like that of a spider, grown to impossible size.

Its hairy limbs snaked out to attack her, each leg tipped with a needle-like barb. She leapt back to avoid the first, her crippled leg coming down hard on the mud. She braced herself there, gritting her teeth against the impact. When another limb shot forward to stab her, she brought her sword around and cut it off.

Kurogane had been right about the steel. The blade cleaved through the demon's flesh as if it was made of ribbons and tissue paper. The monster reeled back, an inhuman screech tearing free of its maw.

_Don't hesitate, _she thought, lunging forward to bury the tip of her sword between two of the creature's six eyes. Black fluid poured from the wound, too dark to be blood, but with the same viscous quality. She removed her blade, nauseated, and the creature collapsed.

It took her a moment to realize that, while she'd been occupied with a single demon, Kurogane had slain the rest. Black body parts, some recognizable, some not, littered the forest floor, oozing black fluid.

He was wearing that bloodthirsty grin he sometimes got during a fight.

Sakura closed her eyes, feeling her body sway slightly. _I'm really not cut out for this. _"Was that all of them?"

"For now. Tomoyo-hime said there were more."

She nodded, kneeling down before she could faint. It took her a moment to put her thoughts back in order. "These demons . . . They're not like regular animals, are they?"

"No. They feed on humans. That's why we kill them."

_So really, I'm doing everyone a favor by killing them. Especially Syaoran, since he's out here somewhere. _She took a deep breath, then let it out, slowly.

"You'll want to wipe the blood off that sword," Kurogane said as he rubbed a piece of cloth over Souhi. "Demon blood erodes metal."

She nodded, pulling a black piece of cloth from her pocket. _Syaoran's blindfold, _she thought. _From his training in Infinity. _

But Syaoran was back. At least, _this _Syaoran was back. And the blindfold was already stained. _He's here with me. That's better than a piece of cloth. _

She ran the cloth down the blade, wiping the sticky black fluid off the metal. It clung to the steel, the texture becoming more like caramel as it dried. But eventually, she wiped it all away. "Can we go back to looking for Syaoran now?"

Kurogane let out a sigh. It wasn't his usual exasperated sigh, or a pitying sigh. It was contented. Relaxed.

It was strange to realize just how different she was from her teacher.

They returned to their horses. The animals had stayed in the clearing where they'd been left, though she could tell from the occasional snorts that the demons had made them anxious. "Will they be okay in the woods?" she asked.

"They're the best horses in Edo. They'll be fine."

She climbed onto the mare and waited for the ninja to take the lead. He moved into the woods, falling silent again as they rode. They traveled almost half an hour before Kurogane called his gelding to a stop.

"What is it?" Sakura asked, dismounting. "More demons?"

"Not this time." Kurogane stooped down and pulled something from the mud. At first, Sakura thought it was a fallen branch. Then she saw it was connected to something. A low moan reached her ears.

"I knew you guys would come," Syaoran murmured, just before passing out.


	99. Connected

Chapter Ninety-Nine

Sakura took half a step forward, arm shooting out as if to stop Syaoran from collapsing. Before he hit the ground, Kurogane bent down and hoisted the mud-covered boy over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of flour. "Tomoyo-hime needs me to slay the rest of the demons before the border wards fall," he said, setting Syaoran on the grey mare. He pulled a length of rope from a leather pocket attached to the saddle and tethered Syaoran's wrists together. Then, he secured the rope around the horse's neck. The mare neighed in protest, but didn't move. "Take him back to the castle. There are healers there to help him."

Sakura stared at Syaoran. His face was angled down, neck hanging limply, eyes closed. But behind the layer of mud, Sakura could see the drying streaks of crimson on his shirt. "Will he be all right?"

"Probably. Kid's tough. Don't push that mare past a trot, though. He might fall."

She nodded and mounted the horse, just behind Syaoran. After a brief hesitation, she slipped her arms under his and took hold of the reins. She nodded once to Kurogane. "Be safe, okay?"

Something like surprise flitted across the ninja's face, but he nodded and steered his black gelding deeper into the woods. Sakura poked at her horse's flank with the side of her shoes, urging the mare back toward the palace. As they rode, Syaoran's unconscious body sagged deeper into the saddle. She leaned forward, resting her chin on his shoulder. His clothes were soaked through, his body chilled to a dangerous level. She pressed the side of her face against his clammy cheek, trying to share as much body heat with him as possible, as well as shield him from the rain. Every few seconds, she looked up to make sure the mare was going in the right direction, but otherwise she clung close to Syaoran.

The ride out had seemed to take only minutes. The ride back felt like hours. Forced to keep the pace to a trot, the trip took much longer. But it was more than that. Before, there had only been a chance Syaoran had been hurt. Now she was certain, and that made it so much harder to keep a relaxed pace. "It'll be okay," she whispered by his ear, hoping the words would somehow transfer to whatever dreams he was having. She adjusted her grip on the reins so she could free one arm to wrap around his head. Her fingers combed through his sopping wet hair.

_This is my fault, _she thought. _If I hadn't questioned him, he wouldn't have felt the need to run away. It's my fault he's like this. _Her hand tightened around the leather ropes of the reins, and she buried her face in Syaoran's dripping hair. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry . . ."

She felt him shift under her weight and withdrew, her arm uncoiling as she sought out the ropes tethering Syaoran to the horse. _Did they come loose? Is he going to fall? _Her fingers probed the knots, searching for a weakness. She found none. "Syaoran?"

Again he shifted, just slightly. She watched him pull reflexively at the ropes on his wrists, then wake suddenly, leaning back. His breath came in rapid gasps.

"It's okay," she assured him quickly. "Everything's okay."

He kept pulling at the ropes. She reached over to still his hand, and his head whipped around, his gaze sharp, like the point of a dagger. "It's okay."

"Why am I tied up?" he demanded, his voice sharper than she'd ever heard it.

"It's just to keep you on the horse. Here, I'll cut the rope."

He tensed as she brought her sword up toward the rope. Carefully, with the blade facing away from both of them, she cut the rope and let it fall into the mud beneath them. As soon as he was free, Syaoran relaxed.

"Are you all right?" she asked tentatively.

He hesitated, his hand going up to the bloody spot on his chest. He winced and clung to the mare's neck, leaning into her mane. "I'm fine. Sorry."

"You . . . Were you attacked? Is that why . . ."

He nodded. "I forgot this world had demons. They're stronger than the ones I—the ones the Other fought in Outo."

She flinched at the title, both hands clamping down harder on the reins. "I wish you wouldn't call him that."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. So quickly it seemed more like a reflex than a genuine apology. But she figured, since she'd pushed him to this, that made them even. She leaned forward again, resting her head in the dip between his shoulder blades.

"Is this okay?" she asked, when he tensed. As if on command, he relaxed.

"I don't mind."

She allowed herself a moment to close her eyes before returning her attention to their course. The mare had drifted to the left of the road, and was about to head down the wrong path. Sakura tugged on one side of the reins and directed the horse toward Shirasagi castle. "Do you . . . need anything? Blood, or—"

"No, not for a while yet. I only need to feed about once a week, less if I don't get hurt."

For some reason, this disappointed her. Though he'd refused her earlier, she'd thought that was out of some sense of shame. Surely, he could see now that there was nothing to be ashamed of.

Couldn't he?

"There are healers at the castle. They'll take care of you."

He shook his head. "I'm fine. I'll be back to normal in half an hour."

"I want them to examine your wounds anyway."

Syaoran was silent for a few minutes. Sakura could feel the rigid muscles in his back through her kimono. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

He hesitated. "I . . . I don't want to lie to you, but . . . I think the truth might hurt you."

"I want to hear it anyway."

Another hesitation. He drew in a deep breath and spoke rapidly, as if the words tasted like bile on their way out. "I didn't think you would care enough to ask if I was hurt."

Her arms went rigid, and he flinched, lowering his head. "Oh," she managed, trying to fight the flood of hurt she felt at the statement. _Of course he would think that, after the way I treated him in Infinity. _

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I can see why you'd think that. I mean . . . We've been so distant, for so long. And you must've thought . . ." She shook her head, trying to orient her thoughts in a way that made sense. "I can't blame you for thinking that of me. We've really only been talking for a few days now, but . . ."

"But what?"

She bit her lip. "I don't want you to think . . . that I don't care about you. Because I do care."

The castle came into view then, and she straightened up, looking ahead instead of at the ground. Suddenly, Syaoran craned his neck around to look back at her, his expression almost frantic. "What do you mean?"

"Huh?"

"You said you cared about me. In what way?"

She blinked. "I don't think I understand what you're asking."

Some of the fervor in his eyes died away. He looked forward again. "I think I'm well enough to walk."

"Syaoran—"

He tugged on the reins, bringing the mare to a sudden stop, and swung his leg over the saddle. He slipped free of her awkward embrace with ease, landing lightly in the mud.

"Syaoran, _wait_."

He had already taken several tottering steps away from her. She pulled the reins harder, bringing her mare to a full stop before she rolled out of the saddle. Mud splattered all over her clothes as she landed.

Syaoran kept walking, every movement stiff and unnatural. She hurried after him, praying he wouldn't use his supernatural speed to run away again. "Syaoran, stop, please."

"I don't want to be a burden to you," he said, barely pausing. "So you don't have to take care of me."

"But I _want _to, Syaoran! I want to help you."

She saw him flinch, but his feet never faltered. Finally, she caught up to him and snatched his wrist, bringing him to a stop. His entire body went rigid again, as if he'd been touched by something slimy. When he turned to her, his face was blank. Cold.

She shivered. She had seen him look like that before. But that hadn't been _him_, exactly, it had been . . . her Syaoran. _That's the problem, isn't it? He thinks he's nothing more than that Syaoran's replacement. _She felt something give way in her chest, as if her heart had been suspended high up and suddenly dropped.

She stared at him for a long moment, waiting for the thickness in her throat to pass. When it didn't, she took a shaky breath. "Syaoran . . ."

"Yes?" he asked, his voice level, polite. Empty.

She hated that blankness. She hated that he was putting up this front against _her_, of all people.

She hated that she deserved it.

Her lungs protested, as if a metal bar had coiled around them, slowly strangling her. She was barely able to choke the words out. "You're not . . . _my _Syaoran."

He looked down, shoulders slumping.

"B-but you're . . . h-here, and . . . and I . . ." She looked up at him, trying to convey the message her crippled words couldn't get across. She felt the heat rise in her eyes as nascent tears blurred her vision.

Suddenly, she felt the gentle pressure of his fingertips against her cheeks. She blinked away the tears and saw his tortured expression. "Don't," he whispered. "Please don't cry. I'm sorry."

She took several breaths, each one shakier than the last. Just when she thought she was about to burst into sobs, her breathing stabilized. _How can I show him what he means to me? _she wondered, frozen where she stood.

His hands hadn't left her face. His touch left her body reeling with a myriad of complex emotions, some of them so intense, they were making the rest of her body respond. It was just like the last time she'd seen him in Infinity, when he'd left. The feeling that something was wrong with the world, and only she had the power to right it. If she chose to do so.

Uncertainly, she lifted her hand to touch the side of his neck. This seemed to fluster him, and he started pulling away. "No," she said firmly, bringing his hand back to her cheek.

"Sakura . . ."

"I won't let you leave me again," she whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips against his.


	100. Kissed

Chapter One-Hundred

Her lips touched his and everything went still.

_This is a dream, _he thought numbly, skin prickling where her fingertips had brushed against his neck. But if it was a dream, it was the first pleasant dream he'd had in months.

Uncertainly, he ran his fingers down her cheeks and to the gentle curve of her shoulders. Her watertight cloak shed rivers of rain and gave way under his fingers. Even through the layer of fabric, he could feel the subtle warmth radiating off her skin.

Too real to be a dream.

Too perfect to be real.

He took a shaky breath, breaking the kiss. Sakura lifted her face to look up at him. "Syaoran . . ."

"I love you," he said fiercely. The words jarred something loose in his chest, and his breathing hitched as if he was about to cry. _Not in front of her, _he told himself.

He waited for her to echo the words back to him. Instead, her lips brushed tentatively against his, her touch lighter than the touch of a butterfly's wings. A shiver ran down his back.

She didn't say it.

"I . . . I'm sorry," he said quickly, slipping out of her embrace. "I shouldn't have spoken so brashly."

"No!" she shouted, resting a hand on his shoulder. He retreated a step as her appetizing scent hit him. Her voice trembled when she spoke again. "Don't run away from me anymore. I can't _stand _it."

He looked down and caught sight of his stained shirt. Mud and blood caked the tattered garment. _Ripped apart and stained and ruined, _he thought. _Just like me. _

"You love him," he said quietly.

Sakura blinked, seeming startled by the shift in conversation. But she was silent.

He captured the hand she'd placed on his shoulder. He relished the contact between his palm and her fingertips. Her hand lingered there a moment, then fell away. "You love him, don't you? The other me."

Sakura made a choked sound at the back of her throat.

Syaoran turned away, unable to face her and keep his voice level at the same time. "I knew that. Of course I knew that. You two were _destined _for each other. If I hadn't gotten in the way, it would've been so natural for you to—"

"Syaoran, he's _gone_."

He turned back. "But you love him!"

When she flinched, he lowered his voice. "I don't mind. I'll . . . I'll be whatever you need me to be. We can be friends, if that's better. Or less, if you want."

"Syaoran."

"I won't ask you to love me back," he went on. Something inside him fractured at the words. "But I will _always_ love you, no matter what happens, no matter what you do. Just . . . don't feel like I'm asking anything of you, okay?"

"I love you."

His neck snapped up, and for a moment, he thought his hearing had gone strange. The words had been said with such confidence, such certainty, there was no way they could've come from someone who had looked so uncertain a moment ago. _Am I having auditory hallucinations now, too? _he wondered, unable to take his eyes off her face. Her lower lip trembled just slightly. _Yes, I must be hallucinating. That's the only explanation._

Cautiously, as one might approach a wounded animal, Sakura stepped forward and laid her hand across his cheek. Her fingertips ghosted across the line of his jaw, then down his neck. He stood there, frozen.

"Is that okay?" she asked. Her voice sounded strained, as if the weight of the words would break her jaw. "If I love you? If I want to be more than just friends? Is that okay?"

_Yes, _he wanted to say, but another thought made the word stick in his throat. _She still loves the Other. Not you. Not truly. _

He swallowed thickly and let his head droop forward to rest on her shoulder. Immediately, she felt his arms twining around his torso, pulling him closer.

_Does it matter that she loves him, too? Does that cancel out the love she might feel for me? _His teeth buried themselves in his lower lip, keeping him from saying anything rash. _If I ask, she'll think I don't believe her. She'll be hurt. _

He pulled her tight to his body, so he could feel the warmth radiating off her skin, through her clothes. Even amidst the pouring rain, he could hear the flutter of her heartbeat, the cadence of her breathing.

_This is enough._

"Yes. That's okay."

Her head shifted slightly, her cheek brushing against his. He turned his head, the tip of his nose grazing the side of her neck. He inhaled, letting the rich fragrance of her blood move through his nostrils. She shivered.

"We should get out of this rain," he said, leaning away so the scent wouldn't tempt him. His self-control had gotten much better since the days after his transformation, but it was still a struggle to resist someone so close, so vulnerable.

The rain was still coming down, but it wasn't the downpour he'd walked into this morning. Even so, Sakura's hands moved to the edges of her cloak and drew it tighter around herself.

"Right."

They returned to the grey mare. Sakura climbed on, then helped him up, being mindful of the closing hole in his chest. It didn't hurt so much anymore. _As if her touch took the pain away, _he thought, lifting his hand to probe around the edges of the hole. He winced when his fingers ran over the wound. Maybe it was better to have the healers look at it after all.

It was a short ride to Shirasagi castle, and the guards on duty let them pass with little fanfare. Syaoran wasn't sure if this was because of his status as Kurogane's apprentice, or Sakura's. _I wonder how good she's gotten. It seems like a few months have passed for them. She would've had enough time to get good at it, especially the way Kurogane-san teaches. _

He wondered if she was skilled enough to fight a real battle instead of merely holding her ground. He hoped so.

The rain relented as they stepped under the eaves. Syaoran ran his hands through his hair, trying to wring it out as well as he could before he stepped within the castle walls. As he dried off, a small door slid open and Fai peered out. "You're back," he said, sounding relieved.

Before, Syaoran would've automatically assumed Fai was talking to Sakura. So it was strange to see the magician looking straight at him when he spoke. And stranger still to see Fai smiling.

_I really did miss a lot, _Syaoran thought, bowing his head. "I'm back."

"Come inside. The healers are ready for you."

He blinked twice before walking through the door. Sakura followed close behind him.

"How did you know—" he began, wondering why Fai was so prepared for his return.

"Tomoyo-chan had a vision. We thought you might be in danger, so we had a team of healers ready."

"I'm fine."

"You're getting treated," Sakura piped up. He looked back to see her face overflowing with childlike indignation.

He knew that look. He'd seen that look a dozen times from the Other's eyes, whenever he would try to keep an injury secret from Sakura. Seeing it now was both a relief and a blow to his pride.

Was he just a replacement, after all?

He shoved the thought away. Sakura had said she loved him. That was all he needed. _Even if that love stems from another source . . ._

_Even if she still loves _him_. _


	101. Foretold

Chapter One-Hundred-One

Kurogane scrubbed the demon blood off his armor, surveying the metal signs of erosion.

It had taken the better part of the evening to eradicate all the existing demons, but no humans had been killed. If anything, the kid's wound had been the most severe casualty, and he was recovering rapidly. The wards were back up, too. Apparently, the gap had appeared because one of the mikos guarding the edge of the territory had been struck ill.

Kurogane could understand that.

Once his armor had been cared for, he removed Souhi from its sheath and polished the blade. To his surprise, the steel wasn't damaged at all, not even the accents in the hilt. _Maybe because it's not real steel, _he thought. Though Souhi had the qualities of most swords, it had been forged from data, not metal. The demon blood had no apparent effect on it.

He cleaned and polished the blade. The weapon reflected torchlight by the time he was done with it.

From a loop on his belt, he pulled the blade with the black handle. _The maker never mentioned the sword's name, _he thought, examining the keen edge of the blade. It had been forged by the same man who'd forged Ginryuu for his father, so many years ago. _I've come full circle, _he thought, wiping a smudge of black blood off the hilt. He hadn't used this one in the fight. When it was time to bloody the blade, Syaoran would be the one to do it.

_I should take this to him. _

Kurogane sat there a moment, sliding the blade back into his sheath. As he was about to leave, there was a knock on his door.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Tomoyo-hime wishes to see you," said one of the servants.

_More demons? _he wondered, hanging both swords at his hip. Since coming to the palace, he'd seldom been ordered to slay demons more than once or twice a week.

He hurried to the meeting room Tomoyo often used, peering inside to make sure she was there before he entered. Except for a small collection of guards, she was alone.

"Come in, Kurogane."

_Not a formal visit, then, _he thought, noting the casual use of his name. Tomoyo was the only person in the world who could call him solely by name without irritating him.

Despite the informal greeting, he bowed deeply when he entered and waited for her to speak. After a moment, she dismissed her guards and beckoned him. "Sit," she said, gesturing to the straw mat in front of her. He obeyed.

They sat there a moment in silence. Tomoyo poured him a cup of tea, smiling softly. "It's good to have you back at the castle. I trust your mission went well?"

He nodded. "The wards are back up, and the demons have been exterminated." _But that's not why you called me here, is it? _

"Wonderful." She sipped her tea. When she lifted her head again, her expression was gentle. Almost like the face of the child who had pulled him from his trauma-induced path of destruction. But there was a subtle joy in her features now, in place of the grave look she'd worn then. "You have been through much since I sent you on your journey. Have you learned the meaning of true strength?"

He took a sip of tea to cover his hesitation. Truthfully, he hadn't thought much of her request since he'd started this journey. At first, his primary focus had been returning to Nihon. Then, it had been keeping both those kids alive. And after that, it had been trying to piece together the shards of their broken friendships.

He spoke slowly, weighing each word. "I've learned that there are a lot of different kinds of strength, and that no one can possibly possess strength in every area. And also, I've learned that strength can lead to disaster." For the first time since he'd started, he allowed his eyes to drift up to hers.

Tomoyo's eyes were shiny with tears. Kurogane blinked, astonished.

He was about to ask if his answer had upset her when her tinkling laugh rose from her lips. "You truly surprise me, Kurogane."

"What's so surprising about what I said?" he demanded.

Her laugh grew louder. "It's just . . . I didn't expect you to change your mind so easily. You were always so stubborn."

"Yeah, well . . ." _Maybe that's changed, too. _"In any case, there's something I have to finish."

"Oh?" Tomoyo's eyes twinkled with unspoken knowledge, but she asked the question anyway. "And what might that be?"

"The people I've been traveling with . . . I'm not so sure they'll be able to finish what they set out to do if I'm not there. And I have a personal goal to accomplish that requires me to continue traveling." _So I can slay a certain sword-wielding sorcerer. _

"You're leaving again," Tomoyo summarized. She didn't sound _disappointed, _exactly. More like rueful. "It may be a long time before we meet again."

"I know," he said. "And that's why I want to renew my oaths to you, before I go. So I have a reason to come back."

"You'll come back. I've seen it."

"Even so—"

"Circumstances dictate that you will not remember this conversation in the future. I will not hold you to a vow you don't remember."

"Tomoyo . . ." He trailed off, unsure what to say. _I won't remember this? Am I going to give my memories to that witch? _"Did you have a dream? Is that how you know?"

She nodded. "When we next see each other, you will be in a much more dire situation. So do not make another oath to me until we meet again, when you can be sure of the promise you make."

He stared at her for a long moment, then bowed his head. If there was one person, on any world, that he trusted absolutely, it was Tomoyo. "I understand."

She nodded in approval. "When the time comes, you will, in part, be responsible for a choice that is made. I do not know which choice is correct. However—" Her expression darkened. "I know the price for both will be dire. I cannot foresee the precise results of that choice. That is why you must remain with them, until that moment comes. I know you will do the honorable thing."

The words, shapeless and vague, sent a quiver of unease down his spine. But he nodded.

Tomoyo dismissed him then. He bowed formally as her guard reassembled around her, then left the meeting room.

_A choice, huh? What did she mean by that? _He turned the corner and headed to the healer's room, where they were keeping the boy. As soon as he stepped inside, the boy glanced up and bowed his head.

"Good evening, Kurogane-san." He made a move to stand, then winced and sunk back into the blankets. His torso was bare except for the carpet of bandages crossing over his wound.

Kurogane took a seat beside the boy. For a moment, he was silent, trying to think of something to say. To his surprise, the kid spoke first.

"I buried the cloak."

He glanced up. The boy's face was serene, if understandably grim.

There wasn't much he could say after that, so he changed the subject. "I got you something."

Syaoran blinked.

Kurogane slid the black-hilted sword from his belt, taking it in both hands and holding it up to the boy. "It doesn't have a name, and the sheath isn't finished yet, but this is yours."

Shock crossed the boy's face. His hands shook as he picked up the weapon. "This is . . ."

"It's the best steel they have in Nihon, and made by the best craftsman I know. And it's _yours_."

The boy stared at him for a long moment. Kurogane half-expected him to try to give it back, claiming he didn't deserve something like this. _I won't take it back, _he thought, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The kid looked down at the sword for a long moment. In the dim light, Kurogane could see the distinctive shine over his apprentice's eyes. _Oh, he's not really going to cry over this, is he?_

But the boy didn't cry. He lifted his head, his expression that of a starving man who had just been given bread. "Thank you," he whispered.

Kurogane lifted a hand to tousle the boy's hair. "But you're still my apprentice, got it? You've got a lot to learn before you're ready to fight anyone."

He blinked again, as if the words had confused him somehow. "Apprentice . . ."

"Yeah. I _told _you that already."

"So . . . Does that mean you're not staying in this world, after all?"

His shoulders slumped. "My duty now is to teach you and the princess how to fight. That supersedes my duty here at the castle."

The boy stared at him for a long moment, combating the hope trying to spring to his face. "You're . . . You're coming with us?"

_Has he been worried about that this whole time? _Kurogane wondered, trying to fathom the sheer look of _relief_ on the boy's face. _Did he honestly think I would abandon him now that we finally got him back?_ "Of course," he said, irritated. _How much is it going to take for this kid to understand how important he is to us? _"Besides," he went on, eyebrows slanting down. "We still have an enemy to face."


	102. Disappeared

Chapter One-Hundred-Two

_He loves me, _she thought, drawing the sheets tighter around herself. Her hair was still damp from the rain, her skin clammy and cold.

The bedroom door slid open. Fai always checked on her before she went to bed. Sometimes after she was supposed to be asleep, too.

He smiled faintly at her movement. "Having trouble sleeping?"

"A little bit," she admitted. Fai crossed the room, moving silently over the hardwood floor. He knelt down beside her bed and rested a hand on her forehead, smoothing her hair back.

"Is something bothering you?" the magician asked.

"No. Something good happened, actually." She pressed her tongue against the inside of her lips. Somehow, they felt different than before. As if her first kiss had changed them somehow.

Fai smiled now, relieved. "Oh? What happened?"

She hesitated, not sure whether or not she should keep the kiss a secret. Apart from herself, Fai had been the coldest to Syaoran while they'd been in Infinity. If there was any lingering tension, the news could damage the tenuous trust building between Fai and this Syaoran.

"Is it a secret?" Fai probed, his voice a little more subdued.

"No, nothing like that." She brought the blankets closer, bundling them up over her heart. After a moment, she decided to test the waters with a less dramatic confession. "Syaoran told me he loved me."

Fai blinked, his face going blank. "And what did you say?"

"Nothing, at first." She squirmed under the quilt, suddenly too warm. "But . . . I think I love him, too."

Fai was silent for a long moment. Sakura watched his face for any sign that he was going to revert back to the aloof vampire he'd been in Infinity. Instead, he smiled. "That's wonderful."

"You're okay with it?"

He ruffled her hair, but lost his smile. "I'm the last person with any right to criticize him. Even though he wore the same face as the boy before him—" He lifted his hand to his eye patch. "—they're two separate people. I assumed, because they'd shared part of a soul, they would turn out the same, and we paid grievously for my assumptions. So I'm going to trust your judgment, Sakura-chan. If you love him, I wish you both the best."

She watched his face carefully for any sign of deceit. But Fai seemed completely earnest. "Thank you," she said.

He patted her head. "Good night, Sakura-chan. Try to sleep."

She nodded into her pillow. "Good night, Fai-san."

* * *

><p>Sleep didn't come easily for Syaoran, and when it arrived, the nightmares returned.<p>

The Other held one of Sakura's feathers, examining it with his mismatched eyes. After a moment, he looked up.

Syaoran stared down at him, trying to ignore the fear piercing his gut. For a long moment, they watched each other in silence.

"You're weak," the Other said, something flickering through his lifeless eyes.

Syaoran's hands coiled into fists. "I'm not."

The Other pulled the feather into his body. In his other hand was a knife, with a handle made of bone. He extended his arms in a nonchalant gesture. "Yet here I am."

_Is he taunting me? _Syaoran wondered. Though his clone had become a mass-murdering sociopath after Tokyo, Syaoran had assumed he had no emotions. Hearing the mocking edge to his voice put him on edge.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "Why are you in my dreams?"

The corner his clone's lip twitched. "To keep you from dreaming about her."

_What's going on? _"But why?"

The Other said nothing. Black tendrils of magic wrapped around his body, swaddling him like a cocoon. _He's moving to another world, _Syaoran realized, just before he was pulled into the glittering blackness. Thousands of stars twinkled around him, each a separate world. One speck of light grew brighter than the others.

With the same feeling of disorientation that accompanied every jump between worlds, Syaoran arrived with the Other in a new dimension. Rain pelted his clone's hair and clothes, but passed through his own as if he was nothing more than mist.

As if he was a ghost.

The Other stood, then turned his head. Syaoran turned with him, wondering what had drawn his clone's attention.

It was Shirasagi Castle.

_No, _he thought, stomach dropping to his heels. "No!" His nonexistent hand shot out to restrain the Other, but passed through his shoulder instead. "_No_!"

The Other walked closer to the castle, ignoring his silent shouts. Syaoran darted in front of him, hoping his presence would deter his clone. The Other walked through him as if he didn't exist.

_I have to get back, _he thought. _I have to wake up so I can stop him._

He hesitated, unsure how to wake himself up when he already felt perfectly lucid. By all rights, the adrenaline should've pulled him from this nightmare already. He should've been racing down the halls to protect Sakura from the threat.

He couldn't. His body wasn't responding to his commands. _Maybe if I find my body, _he thought, racing toward the castle as fast as his translucent legs could run. All the while, rain kept falling around him, never touching his skin, unaffected by his presence.

Shirasagi Castle wasn't very familiar to him, given how little he'd explored it since arriving here. Even after he ghosted through the exterior walls, he still had to run to find some familiar landmark. All the while, the Other drew closer to his target. _Who's he coming after? Me? Fai?_ He frowned. If it was him, that meant the Other had at least some compulsion to seek him out and destroy him. If it was Fai, the Other was likely trying to acquire more magic.

Syaoran found the small room where Sakura had baked bread for him. He stood there a moment, trying to remember which hallways led to his room. Then, he bolted in the right direction.

_Why did it have to be now? _he wondered. _Why did he have to come when things were finally getting better? _

He passed the corridor where he'd hallucinated the other day. Suddenly, it occurred to him that the hallucinations weren't a product of insanity, but the Other slowly pulling him further and further from everyone. _I've been so stupid, _he thought. _If he can slip into my dreams, surely he's been able to appear in my waking thoughts. I've been careless . . . _

He reached his room then, and found his body, still asleep, swaddled in blankets. He reached out, hoping the contact would snap him awake. But his nonexistent hand merely slipped harmlessly into his shoulder. _It's useless, _he thought, reeling back. _I can't wake up._

Across the palace, a door opened.

* * *

><p>Sakura stirred at the sound of her door sliding open. <em>Fai-san must be checking in again, <em>she thought, feigning sleep. The last thing she wanted was for the magician to worry.

Normally, Fai would close the door after ascertaining she was asleep. When Sakura didn't hear the distinct whisper of the door sliding across its frame, her eyes flashed open.

"Syaoran?" she asked, startled. The figure stepped forward, allowing her a closer look. His face was just the same, but even in the dark, she could perceive the faint difference between the color of his eyes.

_It's him, _she thought, sitting bolt upright.

Her Syaoran stared at her, eyes devoid of all emotion. But instead of running away, Sakura found herself staring at the boy who had helped her through so many different worlds. "Syaoran-kun?"

He extended one hand to her, his lips parting slightly. Her heart quickened, pulse pounding in her ears. Her legs moved forward of their own accord.

His hand caught hers and pulled her close to his chest. As his skin brushed against hers, an image flashed through her mind—an underground reservoir at the base of a tower. Blood running down the real Syaoran's thigh as her Syaoran stabbed him through the leg. Fai lying, broken and bleeding, on a bed.

Sakura pulled back, reaching for the sword Kurogane had given her. Her fingers had just coiled around the white hilt when his arms pulled her in, holding her so tight that the air vanished from her lungs. She managed one weak cry before she felt the tendrils of magic wrapping around her arms. _No, _she thought, gripping her sword. _No, he can't take me away._

Sakura felt the icy brush of magic across her skin and disappeared.


	103. Spelled

Chapter One-Hundred-Three

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

_Something's wrong, _Fai thought, his eye flashing open. In an instant, he sat up, body tensed to defend himself.

The palace was silent. That should've been a good sign, should've meant there were no intruders. Yet Fai could feel it—the taint in the air, the pervasive tendrils of darkness leaking out of the shadows. Something was very, very wrong.

His sheets whispered as he slipped out of them. A moment later, his bedroom door slid open. He peered out, head whipping around as he looked up and down the corridor. His gaze froze on a half-open door down the hall. "Sakura-chan," he whispered, darting across the hallway and into her room.

She was gone.

_Impossible, _Fai thought. The corners of the room tilted, the walls bulging and warping even as he stared down at the empty bed sheets. Despite her absence, something foul lingered, like ashes in the air, traveling down his windpipe and suffocating him.

Fai took a shaky breath, then doubled back. In half a second, he was at Kurogane's door, almost snapping the frame as he shoved the door aside. At the sound, the ninja's hand flew to his sword. "What—"

"Sakura's missing," Fai said.

"_What_?" Kurogane demanded.

"She's _gone. _She's not in her room. She's—She's missing."

The ninja shoved past him and looked into Sakura's room. He turned back. "Go wake up the kid. I have to check on Tomoyo."

Fai blinked, then started for Syaoran's room, moving with supernatural speed across the palace. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn't escape the sheer sense of _wrongness_ that pervaded the air. All he could do was run, just like he'd always done. Running, running . . . But not away. Not this time.

He would not run away when Sakura was in danger.

He reached Syaoran's room and ripped the door open. He'd expected the young vampire to wake immediately, startled by the noise. In fact, he'd half-expected Syaoran to already be awake, roaming the castle in search of the threat.

Syaoran slept undisturbed.

Fai knelt down beside the boy's mattress, prodding his shoulder. "Wake up," he whispered. "Something's happened. Sakura-chan's . . ." He faltered, fingers tightening around Syaoran's shoulder. _I can't say it, _he thought.

_You're weak, _some part of his mind accused. He shook Syaoran again. "Something's wrong."

When Syaoran still didn't respond, Fai began to panic. _Why isn't he waking up? Has something happened to him, too? _He pressed his ear to Syaoran's chest, listening for a heartbeat, breathing, anything. Despite the rapid flutter of the young vampire's heart, a deep sense of dread crept into Fai's thoughts, like poison dripping from the edge of a tainted glass.

Once more, he tried to shake the boy awake.

No response.

_Something's wrong here, _he thought, lungs contracting as if he'd inhaled water instead of air. Fai choked.

Strangely, it was his own fear that allowed him to piece everything together. Because he'd felt dread like this, once, just before his eye had been ripped out.

He retreated instinctively, unsheathing his claws. When Syaoran didn't stir, he forced himself to approach again, extending his mind to check for dark magic.

Fai's stolen magic lingered around the boy, like a pocket of carbon monoxide. Syaoran wasn't the _source _of it, but tendrils of magic—_his _magic, _his _spells, _his _unseen runes—were etched deep into this Syaoran's body, immobilizing him.

_His clone was trying to keep him from waking up, _Fai realized, dissecting the intricate nature of the spells. He laid a hand across Syaoran's forehead, trying to decipher the hidden runes the clone had sown into the boy's body. As he probed deeper and deeper, Fai began to understand the depth of the manipulation.

This was not the result of a single spell. This was not the result of several spells woven together. No, this web of magic had been weaving its way into Syaoran's heart for months, progressing so slowly the boy would never have noticed the threads spreading out, winding their way through him.

Fai started snipping away at the spells, trying to reverse the damage. He cropped the magic ribbons mercilessly, cutting away dozens of spells in minutes. All the while, Syaoran remained motionless, unresponsive.

_Half my magic, _Fai thought, snapping another bundle of spells. _Growing out from his heart like a thousand vines reaching for the sun, squeezing Syaoran tighter and tighter, like an anaconda in the jungle . . ._ He hacked away at another chain of spells, horrified that his own magic had been abused in such a way.

In the hallway behind him, he heard several pairs of footsteps. One he recognized through sheer familiarity—Kurogane was coming to see why he hadn't reported back yet. Three more followed close behind, one a staccato tapping he guessed to be Princess Tomoyo, and two softer pairs of footfalls likely belonging to her guards.

He turned back to his work, whispering counter-spells to negate the effects of the ones that had already wound around Syaoran's heart. His knowledge far exceeded that of the other Syaoran; he was able to cut away at the ribbons much faster than they wind together again.

It wasn't until his magic brushed against a new spell that he encountered trouble. Without thinking, he shredded the coil of energy, just as he'd done with the lacy blue ribbons. But this spell was more formidable, durable in a way the others hadn't been, and its purpose was entirely different. Before he thought to examine it, his counter-spells scraped across the dark surface of the other spell, activating it.

Fai didn't even have a chance to cry out before he felt himself falling.

* * *

><p>The world shivered, blackness pressing down on his body like a blanket. Syaoran flinched away from the strange sensations, trying to make sense of them all.<p>

He'd reached Sakura's room just before the Other had whisked her away. He'd seen how she'd grabbed her sword, moved to attack her kidnapper.

How she'd failed. The Other had gotten hold of her, globs of magic wrapping around them as they moved to another world. Syaoran remembered reaching for them, despite his bodiless form, remembered the dull pain of the warning shout scraping through his throat.

After that, there was only blackness. All-consuming, batting away thoughts of Sakura, of Kurogane and Fai, of the worlds he'd seen. All yielded to the smothering darkness of this world.

_It's like the void of sleep when you don't dream, _he'd thought, when the blackness had filled in around him, like sand filling a room.

The darkness left him so disoriented, he didn't at first realize he'd fallen into a new world. His eyes remained closed, his breathing stable, almost as if he was waking from a pleasant nap rather than a nightmare. He rolled over, groaning as he acclimated to having a body again. _I must've switched dimensions somehow, _he thought. Another part of his mind criticized him for being so calm.

The ground beneath him was soft, the air above him warm, but not stifling. For a moment, he wondered if it only _felt _warm, since he couldn't feel cold the same way he'd used to. But it was separate from the faint discomfort brought on by low temperatures, so it must've been warm after all.

Sunlight filtered through the capillaries in his eyes. _I should get up, _he thought, but his body wouldn't obey. He felt . . . heavy, somehow. Tired.

Eventually, though, memories of his last few seconds in Nihon drifted through his mind—racing to Sakura's room as he realized the intended target of his clone, watching her disappear the same way he'd disappeared from so many worlds, calling out her name. And then a sudden tug from behind, as if someone was trying to pull him back to his body.

His heart pounded against his ribs, and he forced himself to sit up. A fine, powdery substance tickled the hairs on his body as he moved, falling off his skin. He brushed the particles away from his face, wondering where he'd landed.

When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself sitting in a valley of ashes.


	104. Violated

Chapter One-Hundred-Four

Kurogane arrived to find both the kid and the magician passed out on the floor. "What the hell?" He stalked over. _What the hell are they_ doing_?_ As he reached down to pick the magician up off the floor, Tomoyo-hime cried out.

"Do not touch them!"

He froze, his hand inches from Fai's hood, then drew back. "Why not?"

Tomoyo approached, pushing past him to kneel down beside the pair. Kurogane shuffled back, wondering what she'd sensed that he couldn't.

The Tsukiyomi lifted her hand so it hovered above Fai's forehead. Her lips framed the words for some incantation, too low for him to hear. A moment later, she did the same for the kid, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. Slowly, she stood. "They've moved to another world."

"That's impossible," Kurogane scoffed. _They're still here._

Tomoyo frowned. "Their bodies remain here, but their souls have moved to another plane of existence."

Kurogane glanced around, looking for the white pork bun in the hopes that the creature would have some answers. Mokona popped out of his shirt, plopping down beside the others. A small whimper rose from the creature's throat. Frustrated, Kurogane said, "Yeah, so what does that _mean_?"

"There are enchantments on both of them," Tomoyo explained. "It's the same presence I sensed in Sakura-chan's room."

Kurogane's spine went rigid. _Not them, too. _"So it's him. The Other."

Tomoyo nodded. "It seems Syaoran-kun has been under these spells for a long time. I imagine they've been inert up until now."

"No," Kurogane said, eyes narrowing. "They haven't." He thought back to the night he'd gotten the kid drunk in Infinity. Even then, the boy had admitted to having nightmares. Dark circles around his eyes had declared every sleepless night he'd endured. _They were never just nightmares, _he thought. _Even then, he was tormented._

Tomoyo looked at him. "What do you want to do?"

"What else is there _to _do?" he muttered. "I'm going after them."

She nodded solemnly. "I won't be able to bring you back if things go wrong."

He glanced at the boy, unconscious, probably unaware of how dismal things had become, and said, "Things have already gone wrong. I'm still going."

Tomoyo lifted her hand to touch his. He felt the distinct tingle of magic running up his arm. "This will ensure you move to the same world they're in. If you are determined to go, I will send you."

He bowed his head. "I'm going."

"Do what you must do," Tomoyo said. Kurogane felt the tendrils of magic curling around him, pulling him into the dimensional sea. "And don't forget what I told you."

"I won't," he said, as he disappeared.

* * *

><p>Syaoran wiped the ashes from his face, trying to figure out what had happened in the time between his blackout and his awakening. All he could piece together was that he'd switched worlds while he'd been unaware.<p>

He stood up, brushing ash from his clothes. There seemed to be little point, given the puffs of gray falling from the sky like dark snow. This world seemed to be covered entirely in ash—mounds of gray shifted in the wind like the sand dunes around Clow, puffs of it falling from the sky despite there being no apparent source. Even when he closed his eyes, letting his other senses range out, searching for enemies, he sensed nothing except for the shifting dunes.

_It's like this world has already ended, _he thought, taking a few tentative steps forward. _Just like Tokyo._

He wandered, wiping the miniscule particles from his face every few minutes so they wouldn't get in his eyes. Faint light shone through the clouds, illuminating the barren path before him. The light seemed scattered somehow, as if it wasn't coming from a single source, but from the whole sky, behind the stratus clouds. Like the sunset of Sapphirine, the effect was both heavenly and eerie.

"Hello?" he called, not sure if he wanted an answer. "Is anyone out here?"

He heard a faint warbling behind him, like the giggle of a child, but when he turned, no one was there.

"Hello?" he called again, stretching his senses as far as they could go.

A shriek tore through the air, demanding his immediate attention. His legs carried him to the source of the sound, feet scattering ash everywhere as they hit the ground.

By the time the scream died out, he'd reached the source of it. Lying in the ashes, a woman with wavy brown hair stared up at the sky. A crimson splotch on her dress drew his eyes, and he saw the narrow slit in her outfit where something sharp had pierced her chest. Her neck craned up to look at him, her eyes wide and bloodshot. Abruptly, she started sobbing. "Kill me . . . _Please_, please, kill me . . ."

He recoiled from the sound, from the words themselves. The woman's hand shot out to grab the collar of his shirt. Syaoran heard the distinct crackle of her joints as her broken fingers scraped together.

"Kill me," she begged, more blood running down from the corner of her lip. "Please, please kill me . . ."

Before he could, the flesh of her hand sagged and fell away, dripping onto the ash like grease falling off a piece of steak into the bottom of a grill. As her flesh gave way, her broken bones were left exposed. In seconds, all that was left of the dying woman was a skeleton.

_What is going _on_ here? _he wondered, ripping free of the corpse's grasping hand. The bones fell in a pile at his feet, clattering together. They dissolved into ash where they landed.

Syaoran stared at the ground for a long moment, horror creeping over him. _It's just a hallucination, _he told himself. _You have them a lot. This isn't real. _

"Syaoran-kun?"

His head whipped around, claws shooting out even as he recognized the voice. He forced himself to relax, to think rationally despite the panic clawing its way through his chest. "Fai-san?" he asked, unwilling to approach the voice after what had just happened.

The magician stepped out from behind a nearby sand dune, his eye scanning the horizon. Relief flickered across the magician's face as their gazes met. "I'm glad I found you," Fai said.

Syaoran focused on making his claws retract. "Are you . . . That's really _you_, right?"

Fai blinked, then looked around, as if he wasn't sure the question had been aimed at him. "Yes. Why? Have you run into someone who looks like me in this world?"

He looked down. "No."

"Oh. Good. That probably means we both survived, then."

Syaoran blinked. "I don't understand."

"Well, if you're you, and I'm me, and we're both talking to each other, that either means we're both permanently dead or, as neither of us can talk to spirits, we both survived. Since you were still alive when I was cutting away those spells, I can only assume it's the latter."

"What spells?"

Fai's smile faded. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

The magician's eyebrows came together, his lips turning down in an unnatural frown. Syaoran's heart quickened.

"What don't I know?" he asked, hearing the tremor in his voice.

"The other Syaoran . . ." Fai began. Syaoran flinched. "I don't know when it started. I didn't even realize he'd put spells on you until they took effect. But the spells he's put on you have been weaving through your body for a long time."

"How long?"

Fai hesitated.

"How _long_?" Syaoran demanded, stomach churning. _How long has he had his claws in me? How long has he been manipulating me? _

"A long time," Fai whispered. "Probably since Tokyo."

_Tokyo._

The world tilted at the strangest angle, the ground pulling up on one side. All feeling vanished from his lower extremeties, just as it had when Seishirou had paralyzed him in Sapphirine. Only this was worse. Not mere damage to his body—not something he could recover from—but a total violation of his mind and soul.

A cloud of ash rose around him as he hit the ground. A single word kept echoing around his mind, tormenting him.

_Tokyo. Tokyo!_

"Syaoran-kun!" Fai squeaked, darting to his side. "Are you all right?"

_All right? _he thought, wondering at the sheer inappropriateness of that phrase. _All this time, the Other has been taking control of me, slipping into my thoughts. All this time, and I never knew how great his power over me was. I thought he was only in my dreams. I thought I was in control. But I never was. Never. _"No," he whispered. "I'm not all right."


	105. Not Hated

Chapter One-Hundred-Five

"We have to find Sakura," Syaoran said, distracting himself from the realization that he'd never been in control of his own mind. "That's most important."

"I didn't know you knew she was missing," Fai said.

"I saw. In my dreams, right before I landed here. And if my dreams follow the Other, that means Sakura is likely in this world." He exhaled, looking for signs of passage.

"The strongest presence is coming from that direction," Fai said. "It . . . it's him."

_Of course it is. _Syaoran started in that direction, relieved when Fai followed. Gradually, he picked up speed, until he was stirring up clouds of ash wherever he ran. However far they sprinted, the scenery never seemed to change. Ash spread out in every direction, an endless sea of gray. "What do you think happened to this world?" he wondered aloud.

For a long moment, the only sounds were their muffled footfalls. Finally, Fai spoke. "Who knows?"

"It's strange. I've seen worlds that have been ravaged by disaster, but there have always been recognizable signs of life. But this . . . Where is all this ash coming from? Unless it's drifted across the entire world, I don't see what could've caused such total devastation."

Another silence. Fai said, "Maybe everybody's buried underneath it."

Syaoran slowed, looking back. Fai's expression was strangely grim. "Maybe," he allowed.

They kept going. A sharp incline indicated a shift in the scenery. Reaching the top was like stepping into another world.

"It's Clow!" he cried, too shocked to hold back his excitement. His feet carried him forward, toward the familiar clay buildings, the distant ruins, the castle gardens . . . Fai's hand wrapped around his arm like a vice.

"It's an illusion," the magician said. "Just like what you've seen in dreams."

"I haven't dreamed of Clow since . . . It's been months."

"Before I fell into this world, I found hundreds of illusionary spells on you—the Other set them up so he could, at any point, control what you saw."

His legs stiffened. Another part of him shuddered in relief. This field of ashes wasn't related to Clow Country at all. As he watched, the desert city morphed into the sprawling metropolis of Infinity. _What I would give to go back to Infinity now, _he thought bitterly. _What I would give for a second chance . . . _He sighed. "Sakura's still in that direction, though, right? We have to go to her."

"The _Other _is in that direction. Sakura-chan—"

"She'll be with him. He wouldn't leave her unguarded." _At least I hope not._

Fai nodded, seeming to accept this. Syaoran started forward again.

The detail of the illusion was stunning. Syaoran saw the Ephemeral apartments, standing as tall as the brick base could support. From the lack of scorch marks, he guessed it was before Seishirou had lit it on fire. Nearby, Syaoran saw the cart where he'd bought barbeque the day after his blindfold training. Beyond that, the sleek black tower where Seishirou had stayed loomed above the city.

The only thing missing was the people.

"This place is eerie," Fai said as they crossed the street. Cars sat motionless on the blacktop, frozen in whatever configuration Syaoran had last seen them. Except now the engines were silent, the leather seats empty. A stroller sat abandoned on the corner, occupied only by blankets and untouched toys.

"Are we still headed in the right direction?" Syaoran asked.

"Yes."

"Good. We should—" He broke off, freezing as the scenery shifting around him. Suddenly, they were indoors, standing in a room the size of a closet. Cold air drifted through the crack by the window, chilling the dark bedroom.

_My room, _Syaoran thought. _My room from Infinity. _

"I think he's holding back."

Syaoran turned to Fai, wondering what he meant by that. When the magician wasn't standing where the voice had come from, a wave of confusion washed over him.

"And if he is?" Kurogane's voice asked. Syaoran pinpointed the direction of the sound, but couldn't make himself open the door. The words were familiar somehow, as if they'd been etched onto his brain in bold print.

"He won't admit to it," Fai's voice said. Another quick glance revealed that the Fai standing beside him wasn't the speaker. "He's too scared of Seishirou to tell us what happened, and he's too scared of us to admit to lying about Seishirou. This is all based on the assumption that he's lying, of course, but he hasn't been very forthcoming with details to begin with, so why would he start now?"

Syaoran looked down at his feet. He remembered now.

"Don't use that tone on me," Kurogane's voice said. Syaoran could almost see the glare on the ninja's face. "It's bad enough he thinks we all want him dead."

And then the words came. _Those _words—the words that had taunted him just as the Other had taunted him in his dreams: "I do want him dead. Him and his clone both."

The conversation faded to silence.

Syaoran remembered wandering out of his room, acting like nothing was amiss. Acting like it had never happened.

But it had.

"I didn't mean it," Fai said quickly, and this time, it was the Fai beside him who was speaking, not the one beyond the wall.

"You did," Syaoran disagreed, turning toward the older vampire. Fai flinched away, confirming his assertion. "You meant it then. You wanted me to die."

Fai stared at the floor. "I—"

"I'm not angry."

The magician raised his face slightly.

"What you said then . . ." Syaoran murmured, gaze shifting to the door. "It was nothing I didn't already suspect. You had every right to hate me. I was nothing more than a replacement for my clone."

Fai opened his mouth to protest. Syaoran lifted a hand to stop him.

"Truthfully, in your position, I would've done the same thing. I'm not innocent of hatred. I hated Seishirou for everything he put me through. I hated the Other for the nightmares that tormented me. I still hate Fei Wang Reed for what he's taken from me. All this time, ever since Tokyo, I've been fortifying those walls of hatred, steeling myself for whatever came my way. But I was wrong."

He had Fai's full attention now. The closet-sized bedroom—the walls he'd so abhorred for defining his territory—warped and shimmered around them, as if made of gelatin. He spoke haltingly, measuring every word. "I thought that if I hated them—if I remembered the purpose of that hatred and used it to accomplish what I set out to do—that I might not be the one hurting in the end. But I've been hurt. Everyone I've hated has come back to hurt me." He looked at the floor. "I don't know if I can change that. I don't know if I can forgive Seishirou, or accept what the Other has done to me. I don't think I'll ever be able to accept the suffering Fei Wang Reed caused me. But I can free myself from it. I can be objective. I can try to understand both sides."

Hesitantly, Syaoran lifted his head. Fai's face was ghostly pale. "Syaoran-kun . . ."

"I never hated you," Syaoran told him. "I never hated you, or Kurogane-san, or Sakura. Even _this_—" He gestured beyond the walls, where the muffled conversation had come from. "I couldn't even hate you for _this_. Because seeing all of you interact through _his _eyes, feeling _his _admiration when he thought of all of you . . . Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't have made myself hate you."

Fai's shoulders sank, head drooping down as some essential part of him collapsed in on itself. He leaned back, until his shoulder blades hit the sheetrock, then slid down the wall, lifting a hand to his face. "You heard what I said that night," Fai said softly. It wasn't a question.

"I did."

"I never meant for you to hear."

"I know."

Something shiny slipped down the magician's cheek. "Back in Ceres, I always thought . . . I always thought I was a monster, that I could only destroy, that I deserved to die for the damage I'd done. And through all that, I didn't learn half as much about the things that mattered as what you've said today."

"Fai-san . . ."

The magician's eyelid slid open. A pained smile bloomed across his face. "If I could go back . . . I don't think I would be so cruel to you the second time. I'd try not to be, even if I didn't remember."

Syaoran felt a slight smile curve up his lips, just as the corners of the room twisted in on themselves. Suddenly, they were outside, standing between two rolling hills, in a park marked by silver gates. "I don't think we're going to be able to track Sakura if the world keeps shifting like this."

Fai frowned. "No, perhaps not."

Syaoran reached into his pocket, his eyes tracing the burnt patch of grass in the corner of the field. He pulled the metal bolt from his pocket and held it up to the weak sunlight. "There are stronger things than hatred," he said, turning the little screw around in his hand. "A single bolt can hold together two vital parts. Losing it could mean the destruction of both pieces, or the permanent loss of that connection."

Fai stared at the bolt. "That's . . . That's the piece that was missing from Sakura-chan's leg brace, when we moved to the next world."

"Yes. I picked it up after the fight." Syaoran sighed. "Everything had gone to hell where Seishirou and I had been staying, and I'd run back here, hoping to prove to myself that I hadn't lost my connection to the rest of you. That was when I found this. It was snowing that day, but after holding onto it for a while, the bolt began to feel warm in my hands." A soft smile curved up his lips as he remembered the reason behind his happiness—not just pleasure at having a memento, but a deep joy that stemmed from the knowledge that, even though Sakura had been out of his grasp then, there remained a tenuous link between them. That she hadn't been lost to him forever.

_I won't lose you this time, either, _he thought, holding the metal bolt over his heart for a moment before pocketing it again. "Can you still sense him? The Other?"

Fai closed his eye, his face settling into an impassive mask. Suddenly, his eye flashed open again, his neck whipping around to something behind him. Syaoran tensed, claws shooting out of his fingertips. Fai, however, straightened his spine and turned to face their visitor. "Ah, I was wondering when you would get here."

Syaoran stared at the empty air for a long moment, wondering how and when Fai had lost his mind. And that was when Kurogane dropped out of the sky.


	106. Revealed

Chapter One-Hundred-Six

"And that's why the only things in this world are things I've seen," Syaoran concluded.

Kurogane stared at him. "So you're saying there's no way to track either of them."

Syaoran flinched, glancing down at the snow-crusted grass of Jade Country. The world had shifted twice since Kurogane had fallen into it, first to the Hanshin Republic, then to the town where Doctor Kyle had hypnotized dozens of children. Both the once-bustling city and the grim village had been devoid of inhabitants, as if everyone had dropped what they were doing and disappeared without a trace, without even leaving footprints. "I don't think so," he finally said, turning to Fai for confirmation. The magician returned his gaze with a grim look. "So far, it seems like the Other's presence changes direction every time the scenery shifts. And if he's really in control, we won't be able to reach him until he's ready for us."

Kurogane gave an exasperated sigh and leaned against one of the barren trees next to the path. "And what if he doesn't show?"

Syaoran looked up, then went still. _If he doesn't show . . . _Slowly, his mind grasped the ramifications of that. If the Other didn't show up, that meant Sakura wouldn't either. _I might never see her again, _he realized, shivering as if someone had trickled ice water down his spine.

But what better way for his clone to torture him than this? Everything he'd suffered, he'd endured because Sakura was within his reach. But if she wasn't . . . _I would die, _he thought. _I couldn't live. I barely survived when I was away with Seishirou. I couldn't live knowing that she was a hostage, that I couldn't get to her. _His arms snaked around his ribcage, as if holding his body together. His breathing grew ragged.

Long fingers curled around his upper arm, bringing him back to the present. "We'll find her," Fai said, looking at him with a sternness that had been almost absent in him during their journey. "It doesn't matter how long it takes, we'll find her."

"Well that's a given," Kurogane said, putting his hands in his pockets. "But we still have to have a plan in case the Other doesn't show up."

_That's right, _Syaoran told himself. _I can't let the Other get into my head any more than he already is. I have to be rational._

He felt the distinct tingle of magic and glanced at Fai. Confusion flitted across the magician's face as he registered the same thing. "Are we—" Syaoran began, just as the world shifted. The trees receded into the ground, beneath the darkening snow. The earth rose up around them to form ragged, rocky walls.

"Where are we _now_?" Kurogane demanded.

The familiar purple plants under their feet Syaoran to make the connection. "We're in Sapphirine." _In the canyon. _He shivered in the unnatural cold, turning to Fai. "Can you sense anything?"

"He's close. We might be able to catch up to him," Fai said.

"Let's go."

They picked a direction and started through the linear passages of the Mist-laden canyon. Except for their footsteps, it was silent. _This place is deserted, too. _

"Keep close," Kurogane ordered. "The Mist is thick enough to cut with a sword."

They kept moving, never straying more than a few feet from each other. Syaoran hung back, everything about this world raising hairs on his neck. Sapphirine had been a disaster in every conceivable way except that he'd finally freed himself from Seishirou, and even that had come at a dismal price.

Nervously, he ran a hand along the hilt of the sword Kurogane had given him in Nihon.

The scene shifted, the ground moving around them as if they were traveling over it at supernatural speed. Syaoran swayed.

Suddenly, they arrived in the expansive room where he'd fought Seishirou. Automatically, he lifted his eyes to the spot where he'd fallen after his spine had snapped.

Seishirou knelt in front of his broken figure, the edges of his figure hazy, as if he was made of mist instead of flesh and bone. Like a figure from a half-forgotten dream.

Syaoran watched himself snatch his sword from the ground and drive it through Seishirou's heart, watched the blood splatter across the rocky walls, watched crimson fluid run down the hilt of the blade. Watched it all as if he was watching a play, instead of the way he remembered it.

Watching himself from a distance, just as he'd watched the Other in his nightmares.

A shudder ran down his back. _I shouldn't be remembering it from this perspective, _he thought. _The only way I could be watching from this angle would be if . . ._

_If I was seeing this through someone else's eyes. _

He whipped around, heart rate doubling as the ramifications of what he'd realized sunk in. The world shifted again as he turned, as if he'd truly been watching from a movie screen.

He found himself in an unfamiliar world, surrounded by churning clouds and off-white stone.

"Not your dream," someone murmured. "Not your life. Not your memories. Or so you tell yourself."

In the silence, the quiet words were menacing, deadly. The Other stepped out from behind a stone pillar, wearing the same blank look he always wore. He glanced up, surveying them with mismatched eyes.

Syaoran bristled. "Where is Sakura?"

"Gone," the Other said emptily, sliding a sword from the battered sheath at his hip. Syaoran flinched as he recognized Hien. _Impossible. I saw it shatter, in my dreams._

"Surprised?" the Other asked, looking down at the blade. For a moment, Syaoran panicked, thinking his clone had somehow read his mind. Then he realized just how clearly his face must've conveyed his shock.

"You destroyed that in another world. How can you have it now?"

"Not your dream," the Other murmured again. "Mine." He looked up.

Beside him, Kurogane and Fai both tensed, each lifting their own weapons. "What do you mean, she's _gone_?" Kurogane demanded, in response to the Other's earlier statement.

"She's in a different dream." The scenery warped and twisted, like a heat mirage in the desert around Clow Country. Pale white boulders dotted the floor, their edges broken off and jagged, as if they'd all been smashed apart by a massive hammer. Drops of water clung to fallen pillars, slowly running down the crevices. Despite the extensive damage, Syaoran recognized the ruins of Clow.

"No," he whispered, images flickering across the backs of his eyelids. These were not the neat, intact ruins the Other had explored with Father. These were not the winged ruins of this reality, not the monument to ancient technology the Other had known.

"You know this place," the Other said, staring at the scene with a look of cool calculation. "This is where you turned back time."

"Sakura would have died if I hadn't."

"Yes."

Syaoran took a step toward the devastation, feeling as if he was walking through a wall of water. Every breath caught in his throat, his body weakening from a lack of oxygen. He could see the hazy images of his past self, reaching for Sakura as the black wings enveloped her, reaching to take a hand that was already well out of his grasp.

"Yes," the Other said again, at the moment time should've stopped. But, like the second hand of a clock, time moved inexorably forward, the wings growing, enfolding her. "She would've died. That was how it should've gone."

Fai hissed, fingernails growing impossibly longer.

"But you turned back time." Another shift in scenery. The shattered pillars rose and stood straight to support the ceiling. The chunks of rock gouged from the floor reformed in benign patterns like those Fujitaka had studied. "You turned back time and reshaped that world. Those choices rippled, affecting other worlds, triggering events that eventually led to my existence. And to hers." His fingers loosened around Hien, lips parting slightly as he watched a younger Sakura—this one unmarked by the seal of death.

Meanwhile, Syaoran stared, dumbfounded. "Hers?"

The Other blinked, face regaining the indifferent mask he'd worn for months now. "You don't know."

_Know what? _he wondered, gripping his sword tighter. "What don't I know?"

"That the Sakura you saw through my eyes is nothing more than a copy."

"That's impossible."

The Other's voice changed, tainted with anger. "No. The Sakura you fell in love with died that day."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_I can explain. Just give me a few chapters._


	107. Imprisoned

Chapter One-Hundred-Seven

Syaoran flinched as if he'd been struck. Numbly, he shook his head. "You're lying . . ."

"I'm not." The Other lifted Hien, studying the sharp edge of the blade. A strange, bitter smile crept onto his face. "I can't. Our fates are intertwined. You would know if I was lying."

Syaoran's eyes flickered to the hazy outlines of Sakura's seven-year-old face. She didn't see him, or rather, she _couldn't _see him. It was as if their dreams existed on different planes, each unreachable from the other. Separated. Isolated.

"Fei Wang Reed created a clone of your Sakura," the Other said. There was something in his voice that had been absent a moment ago, some emotion Syaoran couldn't quite place—regret? Disappointment? Relief? Something other than the emptiness his clone had displayed thus far. Something almost . . . human.

The Other went on. "He sent the clone to Clow, to replace the one you'd tried to save. And then he took your body and copied it, sealing you away until we met in Tokyo. All that time, you looked through my eyes, just as I've been looking through yours in those dreams. All that time . . . and you never realized she wasn't your Sakura."

"Then what did Reed do with the original Sakura, after he cloned her?"

"Her body split apart from her soul, and she died." The Other's eyes flitted to the ruins once again. "She'd outlived her usefulness."

Syaoran shook his head, trying to block out the words. "I don't believe you."

"Don't you?" the Other demanded, voice rising. He took several steps in his direction. Syaoran raised his sword, but instead of attacking, the Other lifted a hand and made a circular motion in the air above him. Blue threads stretched out across the ground in a circle, like the strands of a spider's web. Even as his vampire reflexes carried him away from the path of the light, he realized what the Other intended to do.

"No!" he called, eyes flashing up to Fai and Kurogane. The line of light flared, rising from the ground in a curtain of magic fire. The others reeled back, then lurched forward, recognizing the nature of the spell a moment after he did.

A fraction of a second too late, Fai's hand smashed into the other side of the barrier. It threw him back like a taut spring. Through the veil of cold fire, Syaoran saw Fai's face settle into a mask of horror, saw Kurogane shaking his arm to break him free of his shock-induced stupor.

"There's one Sakura left," the Other said, capturing Syaoran's attention once again. "My master needs her. You want her returned safely. Only one of us can accomplish our goal. You know what has to happen next."

Syaoran hesitated, eyes flitting to his friends beyond the barrier, to the image of Sakura playing in the ruins, then finally to the shadows pooling at his clone's feet. A cylinder rose from the dark patch, materializing from the ground like a mirage. The colors shifted, shadows receding from the surface. As it took shape, Syaoran's heart started pounding.

Suspended in the tube, eyes closed in sleep, was Sakura. The slow currents tangled her hair. Bubbles rose from the base of the tube and drifted across her skin, her dress, her face. "Sakura!"

"One of us will leave this place," his clone said, raising a hand and moving it to the left. The tube containing the desert princess slid to the edge of the arena, inches from the fiery blue barrier. "But only one of us."

Syaoran met his clone's eyes and raised his new sword, feeling the resolve form in his blood, like ice crystals. He would not allow Sakura to be hurt. _Not even if she was never _my _Sakura. _"Fine."

Lightning flared at Syaoran's fingertips. Shadows writhed in the flickering light, forming phantom patterns around him. "Raitei Shourai!"

The Other lifted Hien; the edge glittered with the magic he'd stolen from Fai. As the lightning shot through the air, it bent, as if redirected by the magic coming off the dream-forged sword.

Syaoran darted in, hoping his supernatural speed would give him an edge. Before he could come within striking distance, the Other murmured another spell. Glowing cobalt triangles formed in the air in front of him, outlined with streaks of black, like the space between the stars. Too late, Syaoran tried to change direction. When he struck the barrier, sparks of agony shot through him, shredding the muscle of his arms and traveling down the rest of his body. It was all he could do to stay conscious as he collapsed to the ground.

The Other darted in, bringing Hien down.

Syaoran moved to parry the blow, not realizing until the last second that the attack was merely a feint, like so many of the drills Kurogane had taught them both. A feint. A trick.

Too late, Syaoran reared back. Flames erupted from Hien's blade, caressing his bare arms, grasping his shoulders and brushing its fingers across the side of his neck with a touch as light as one of Sakura's feathers. Blisters rose on his skin wherever the heat touched him, flesh melting even as sickening waves of pain penetrated deep into his body.

Instinct took over, and Syaoran called out another spell. "Fuuka Shourai!"

The air twisted around him, fanning the flames that bit into his skin. A gale pierced the air between himself and his clone. The force of it knocked them both backward. Frantically, Syaoran rolled, the fire clinging to his clothes like a jealous lover, eating away at his skin. Cinders glowed at the edges of his burnt clothes, even as he trampled the flames under his weight.

He laid still, breathing, as his wind spell raged around the closed off area. When his eyes caught sight of his friends beyond the barrier, he saw Fai frantically inscribing runes on the outside, trying to shatter the spells keeping them out. _I only have to hold out long enough for them to get through, _Syaoran thought, rising to his feet despite the claws of agony rending his flesh apart. As the wind began to die down, he realized that even his vampire blood couldn't afford him enough time to recover. He lifted his sword, channeling his magic down the steel. "Raitei Shourai!"

Electricity crackled along the line of the blade, shooting out in a straight line perpendicular to the sword. It roared, hot enough to melt stone. The Other reacted, drawing a line of magic in the air with the tip of his sword. It expanded, crimson fire forming a shield in front of him. The lightning pierced the wall of fire, and for one instant, Syaoran thought it was going to break through, that his clone would die from the jolt.

Instead, the barrier absorbed the brunt of the electrical attack and sent it back at him.

Syaoran threw himself to the side, the brilliance of the bolt leaving afterimages printed across his retina. Thunder tore through the enclosed space, echoing off the magic walls as if they were made of solid, tangible material. Between the afterimages and the noise, Syaoran was, for one moment, blind and deaf to everything except the chaos of the blast.

He did not see the threads of magic forming at the Other's fingertips, like fishing line.

He did not hear the whispered words of a magic language he didn't know.

He did not see or hear anything until he was caught.

The thread of magic wrapped around his throat, thin as spider's silk, but unbreakable as steel. He clawed at the obstruction, trying to gasp in a breath through his closed windpipe. His eyes sought the source of the spell, falling on the Other's cold gaze. His clone's lips moved, forming words too quiet for even his vampire senses to detect.

Twenty meters away, effervescent bubbles roared around Sakura's limp form, getting trapped in her hair. Still she slept, untouched by the chaos.

"How pitiful," his clone whispered, approaching. Syaoran struggled to stand. Thousands of invisible threads pinned him down, going taut as he tried to move. Perhaps in ones and twos, he could have severed them. Perhaps if they had only bound one arm or one leg, he could've broken free. But like the spells Fai had described when they'd first landed in this world, thousands of fine threads wrapped around his body, their combined force immobilizing every joint, every miniscule muscle. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could only feel his heart constrict as he realized once again that he'd never been in control of himself. Like a fly caught in a spider's web.

The edges of his vision grew hazy.

The Other had nearly reached him now. "How pitiful, to be the original, yet still overpowered so by a copy. How pitiful that you can't even be free from me now, when the person you love most is at stake."

His eyes could still move, Syaoran realized. They flickered to Sakura. Within the confines of the tube, her arms were moving, her eyelids slowly sliding open. _No . . . _he thought, remembering the moment she'd awoken in Tokyo, unable to keep himself from drawing parallels. _No, not now. Don't wake up now, it will only hurt you . . . _

The Other knelt down beside him, tugging the sword from his immobile hand and tossing it aside like a piece of broken costume jewelry. "I'll let you in on a little secret," the Other said, watching him like a middle school kid observing a dying bug. The cord of magic around Syaoran's throat loosened slightly; he gasped in a ragged breath, only to feel the rest of the strings pulling his body up, like a marionette. In a moment, he was face to face with his image. "There's a reason your Sakura died and mine didn't. It's because Hitsuzen demands balance. Two of the same person, both with the ability to travel dimensions . . . It goes against fate. So to compensate, the original Sakura died and the clone survived. And it has to be the same with us."

"Why?" Syaoran demanded, stalling for time. Surely, Fai was still searching for a way through the barrier, or, failing that, negotiating with Yuuko. Surely they wouldn't leave him here. Surely . . .

Uncertainty clouded the Other's mismatched eyes. "Why?"

"You said . . . You said the one over there was . . . _your _Sakura. Why do you call her that?"

"Because she's mine."

"But _why_?"

A shift came over the Other's face, like he couldn't really comprehend the question. His features went slack. Hien's point drifted down half an inch.

In the tube, Sakura was now fully alert. Her fists came down on the glass. A dull thump echoed across the arena. Muffled by her watery prison, she shouted. "Syaoran! Syaoran!"

"I wonder which Syaoran she's talking to," the Other said, any semblance of humanity fading from his eyes. "Is she defying fate by trying to stop me? Or is she calling out to you, trying to spur you to action?" The strings pulled tighter, and he lifted Hien, placing the tip at the juncture between Syaoran's shoulder and neck. A tingle of disquiet ran down his spine. _This is it, _he thought. _This is how I'm going to die._

"Syaoran!" Sakura's fist came down hard on the inside of the glass, shattering it. Water flooded out from the tube, forcing the damaged glass out of the way and freeing her. Clutching the sword Kurogane had given her, she sprinted toward them. "Syaoran!"

The Other looked to her, then back to him. "It doesn't matter if she loves you now. I've won."

The sword came down.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_I told you I'd explain. Have a little faith in me, readers._

_So essentially, there _was _an original Sakura and a clone Sakura, but unlike in the series, the original Sakura wasn't sealed away, but killed by the stresses of being cloned. AU!Syaoran didn't know this, so he assumed the Sakura he'd been traveling with was the original, and fell in love with her again during this story. That doesn't mean he didn't love the original Sakura, but right now, his mind is too muddled to really process her death, especially when clone Sakura is so close._

_In other words, I lied when I said there was only one Sakura. But only technically, as the existence of an original Sakura didn't affect the plot until now._


	108. Saved

Chapter One-Hundred-Eight

"_Syaoran!_"

His face—both their faces—turned toward her for a moment. With a silent plea, she begged her Syaoran to stop.

There was a moment, when those mismatched eyes met her gaze, that she thought she saw something human in them. Regret. Sorrow for what he'd done. A silent wish that things had turned out differently in Tokyo.

And then her Syaoran drove Hien through the new Syaoran's shoulder, and suddenly he wasn't_ Syaoran _anymore—he was the Other, the image, the clone. He was the enemy, a pawn of the true villain, the spark that had burned their little group to cinders. _Syaoran _no longer existed—only the clone and the dying boy in his arms. "Syaoran!" she screamed.

The Other dropped Syaoran at his feet and pulled his sword out. Blood gushed from the wound, splattering against the hard white stone as the dying boy collapsed. As Syaoran collapsed.

The next few seconds passed as with the clarity of a dream. Her legs moved under her, as heavy and uncoordinated as steel springs. Forgotten in her hand sat the sword Kurogane had given her, still nameless, still without a proper sheath. Without a conscious thought, she threw herself to the ground beside the dying Syaoran, her hands seeking the growing spot of red on his shoulder. His brown eyes panned up to look at her face. "Syaoran . . ." she whimpered, vision blurring.

"Leave him," the Other said. "You're coming with me."

Her eyes flashed up to the mismatched eyes of the image. Her heart fluttered with unfamiliar rage. "No."

Consternation flickered through his eyes for half a second before he reached for her. She slapped his hand away. "_No_."

"He's going to die. Leave him."

"No!" She returned her attention to Syaoran, clamping a hand down on his wounded shoulder to stop the bleeding. Crimson fluid slipped between her fingers, the flow too great to stanch, even if she'd had the resources of an entire hospital at her disposal. "Syaoran . . ."

Syaoran lifted his right hand to her cheek and brushed her water-soaked hair away from her face. His brown eyes glistened, glazed over with pain.

"We're going," the Other said, snatching Sakura's upper arm and dragging her to her feet. Fury pulsed through her, her hand going to the hip and ripping the sword free of the loop on her belt. Without a thought, she spun the blade around and drove the point up through the Other's abdomen, cutting through his diaphragm, and piercing his heart. Her body met the resistance without flinching.

Shock flitted across his face, the most human expression he'd worn since Tokyo.

But there was nothing human left in that Syaoran, nothing she could salvage, nothing she could love. So even when he whispered her name with his dying breath, all she felt was a twinge of regret for mourning his absence so long.

She turned back to Syaoran—the real Syaoran, _her _Syaoran. More blood rushed out of his wound, pooling around his hair.

The barrier created by Fai's stolen magic fell.

"Sa . . . kura . . ." Syaoran whispered, his right hand twitching. Knowing what he wanted, she took it and lifted it to her cheek.

His fingers were like ice.

He blinked slowly, as if surfacing from a peaceful dream. The crimson splotch on his shirt spread further. "I love you," he whispered.

Tears rolled down Sakura's cheeks, dripping onto Syaoran's neck. At a loss, she leaned down and kissed him once on the lips. "I love you, too, Syaoran."

Kurogane and Fai arrived just then. "Oh no . . ." Fai whispered, kneeling down beside them both. Sakura watched Syaoran's eyes slide over to the magician.

"Fai-san . . . You'll take care of Sakura, won't you? I don't . . . I don't think I can, anymore."

Fai made a choked sound at the back of his throat. Before he could respond, Kurogane stepped in.

"Don't be stupid," the ninja growled. "You're not going to die. You're a vampire. You'll heal up just fine."

Already, Syaoran was shaking his head. "No. Not this time."

"Why not?" Sakura asked, her voice thick with building sobs. "Why not this time?"

His gaze returned to her. His hand trailed down the side of her face, fingers probing the skin of her neck. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. "Not this time," he repeated with such deep sorrow, she knew it to be the truth. "Too much damage."

And things must truly have been dire, because of all the people who could've suggested it, it was Kurogane who said, "Call the witch."

"No," Syaoran whispered. "Not for me. I won't ask you to—"

"Do it," Sakura said to Mokona, fingers curling around Syaoran's palm. "I'll pay the price."

"Sakura—"

"Please Syaoran," she said. "You've given up everything for me. Let me do this."

"The price—"

"I will bear the price." _So long as you exist, I can bear the price . . ._

"Sakura . . ." He trailed off helplessly, fingers going limp against her skin. She held his hand to her face, letting her body heat seep into his cold fingers.

"I will bear the price," she repeated. "To atone for the pain I've caused you."

With a pained expression, he shook his head. "No. I won't let you. You're strong now. You can take care of yourself." He closed his eyes, his voice dropping even lower. "You can live without me now."

"I _won't_," she hissed, fingers curling around the sticky fabric of his bloodstained shirt. "I _won't _live without you."

A circle of light formed on the stone floor, with Yuuko at its center. Sakura turned, heart fluttering painfully under her ribs. "Yuuko-san, we need help."

"There will be a price."

"I will pay it," she said. _Syaoran would do the same for me. He already has . . . _"I need a way to save Syaoran's life."

Yuuko's wine-red eyes followed Mokona's line of sight to Syaoran's limp body. Syaoran moved his head from side to side, gasping like a dying koi. "It seems he does not wish to be saved."

"_I _wish to save him," Sakura said fiercely.

Yuuko nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they were solemn. "You would not be able to bear the price alone. Even your own life would not be enough."

Her shoulders sunk. Another salty tear slipped free of her eyes as she blinked.

"However, there is a way."

Her eyes flashed open again, her body unconsciously leaning forward.

The witch went on. "As when the others sacrificed their most valuable possessions for Mokona, his life could be saved with the sum of your offerings."

Sakura's eyes flickered to the others. Both of them leaned close to the circle of light, desperation evident in every twitch of their muscles. She turned back to Yuuko. "What do we have that you want?"

"Something personal," the witch said. "Something of even greater value than the price you all paid for Mokona."

"Don't . . ." Syaoran whispered, his hand stretching out as if to stop Yuuko's words.

Yuuko's gaze slid over to him, then back to Sakura. "Yet the price is also the same, in a way. Your memories. Suffering for each of you in turn, beyond the scope of what you've faced in this reality. And one other thing." The light in her eyes dimmed, lips parting and moving soundlessly, as if she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"What? What is it?"

"The only way to save him now is to turn back time."

"No!" Syaoran yelled with such intensity, Sakura thought, just for a moment, that he could've pulled through on his own. Then he coughed, splattering blood across his already scarlet-stained shirt, and that tiny shred of hope died. "The damage that could do . . ."

"The damage it _will _do is great," Yuuko said. "But it is not your wish, even if you may benefit from it. You have no say in whether the others choose to pay the price."

The witch turned back to Sakura. "The price of turning back time will be the granting of the wish itself. The ramifications of this wish will be far-reaching, should you choose to accept. You will face grave dangers, endure worlds where each of you will suffer greatly, pay prices you would not have to pay in this timeline. Additionally, everyone who has died in this timeline will have expired in the most natural way prior to the point in time to which you return. All of your memories will be edited to fit this new pattern. However." At this she paused, her expression growing impossibly more grave. "To prevent this series of events from repeating itself, Syaoran's memories will remain unchanged."

Sakura thought of all the suffering Syaoran had endured in the past months, all the trauma Seishirou had put him through, all the coldness she had shown him in Infinity, all the sorrow he'd felt because of them. And now, the thought of forcing him to relive it all, to allow herself to forget this and make the same mistakes . . .

It was a steep price. She had known it would be a steep price, but now she didn't know if she could endure it.

"I accept my role in this price," Fai said suddenly, staring at Yuuko with a mix of horror and relief. He addressed Syaoran. "No matter what point in time we end up in, don't give up on me. Tell me things will change. Don't let me treat you like I treated you in Infinity."

Syaoran stared back, eyes glassy as he struggled to hold on to consciousness. They were running out of time. Syaoran was running out of _time_.

Sakura's heart convulsed, a sob breaking through her lips.

"You know my stance," she said shakily, hoping Syaoran would remember enough of this, at least, to know she loved him, would grow to love him again. "I will pay my part of the price."

Yuuko nodded, then turned her head toward Kurogane.

The ninja looked back at her, his red eyes impassive, unreadable. His eyes flickered once to the dying boy. "Tomoyo said I would face a choice where both options would cost me. She said she saw it in a dream. She trusted me to make the honorable choice, whatever it was. But I can see now that neither of them are right. Neither choice is honorable when the person being saved wants to die, yet everyone else wants him to live."

Syaoran nodded in agreement. Sakura held back a gasp of shock.

Kurogane's voice grew louder as he turned his attention to the witch. "But I've made this decision before, and I stand by it. So whether he wants to live or not, I'll keep him alive _now_. If that means I'll be hurt because of it, that's fine."

"Kurogane-san . . ." Syaoran whispered, his voice tight with betrayal.

"It's not your call, kid. I'm not going to watch you die."

"You accept the price?" Yuuko asked.

"I accept the price."

The witch nodded. "Very well. It will be done." Her image shivered out of view, the circle collapsing. As soon as she vanished, the ground rumbled beneath them, as if disturbed by something massive moving underneath it.

Sakura took both of Syaoran's hands in hers, leaning down to kiss him. When their lips met, she tasted blood. "I'm sorry," she whispered, as the edges of the world dissolved, floating away like the furry seeds of a willow tree. "I love you."

His eyelids slid shut. "I wish . . ." he murmured, then twitched, almost choking on his own blood. The wound in his shoulder let loose another gush of red, still not healing.

Sakura leaned closer, turning her head so his lips were at her ear. "I wish we'd had more time together," he said. "I wish I'd never left you, even for a moment."

She nuzzled her cheek against his, the world collapsing, folding up like a crumpled sheet of paper around them. "I wish I'd realized I loved you sooner," she told him, just as the world vanished in a haze of white.


	109. Finished

Chapter One-Hundred-Nine

Syaoran woke as if from a deep slumber.

There were voices nearby, muffled by the walls. As Syaoran opened his eyes, he saw the ill-defined lines of the room. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. When the shapes didn't resolve into the defined lines he was used to seeing, he sat up. The pale sheets brushed against the skin of his arm, rough to the touch, made of cheap material. Through a small window on the edge of the room, he saw a sliver of moonlight, surrounded by stars. But like everything else, it was distorted somehow. The voices outside sounded off, as well. Muted. As if his ears were stuffed with cotton.

Yet he would have been hard-pressed to forget this room. He'd spent so much time here, before he'd left Infinity.

As his mind surfaced from the haze of sleep, he realized why everything seemed so blurred. His heart quickened at the thought. But when he lifted his hand in front of his eyes and tried to extend his claws, nothing happened. _I'm human again, _he thought, a shudder of relief running down his back. _Of course. I never went with Seishirou in this reality. He never turned me into a vampire. Fai never killed me . . . _

Outside his flimsy door, he heard Kurogane speak. "Don't use that tone with me," he growled. The line echoed in Syaoran's head for half a second. He'd heard this exchange so many times, he almost knew it by heart. "It's bad enough he thinks we all want him dead."

Syaoran turned to the door, resigned.

"I do want him dead," Fai said coldly. "Him and his clone both."

Syaoran thought back to that day, to his reaction, to the way those words had carved such deep trenches into his heart.

He turned the knob and stepped outside, moving carefully with his less coordinated human body. He saw Fai flinch and go still, saw Kurogane's eyes flash to his face.

The first time he'd overheard this conversation, he'd made a point to ignore it, to pretend he had merely woken up to sate his thirst—an ordinary, human thirst back then. This time, he stood in the doorway, letting the door close behind him.

Kurogane thawed out first. "What are you doing up?" he asked, a strange look flashing across his face. "You should've been asleep hours ago."

Syaoran smiled; Kurogane had said the same thing the first time he'd walked in on this conversation. _Yuuko let me keep my memories of that timeline so I wouldn't make the same mistakes a second time. And if she returned us all to this moment, then that must have been when everything changed. _He looked up, his smile turning rueful. "I overheard," he said softly.

Fai flinched, head whipping up to look at him. For a moment, his single eye danced between blue and gold. Slowly, brokenly, he lowered his head. "So you heard that."

Syaoran walked over to the refrigerator, pulling a carton of orange juice from the door and setting it on the kitchen table. "I heard," he said, opening the cupboard to retrieve a glass. The only sounds in the tiny apartment were those of his actions: the _clink _of the glass hitting the table, the sound of juice filling the glass as he poured. He lifted the glass to his lips and drank, relieving the parched feeling in his throat.

Human food for a human body.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Fai asked, arms wrapped around his torso as if shielding himself from a bitter wind.

Syaoran looked up from his glass. "All I can say . . . is that you won't hate me forever."

The magician glanced up at him, shock warring with desperation on his face. But the hatred was gone from his expression, washed away like silt in a river.

As if Fai had never truly hated him in the first place.

"What's going on?" Kurogane demanded. "Why are you being so calm about this?"

"Why?" he echoed, taking another sip of his juice. It took him a moment to formulate a response. "Because all dreams must end. Even nightmares."

They both stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Perhaps, given all the hallucinations and nightmares, he had.

But there were worse things to lose.

"I'm glad," Syaoran murmured. "Truly, I'm glad I got to meet you both, even under such dire circumstances. I'm glad to be part of this journey, even if it hurts sometimes." His vision blurred slightly, and he opened his eyes wider, surprised to find his eyes moist with saltwater. In an even softer voice, he continued. "Most of all, I'm glad we're all alive to fix what once went wrong."

"Went wrong . . ." Fai echoed. "What do you mean?"

He smiled again. _I can still cherish the time I have with them. Even if that reality will never be anything but a forgotten dream to them, I'll remember. I can set right what once went wrong. _"Just . . . Nothing. It doesn't matter so much now. Everything is exactly as it should be." His eyes drifted to Sakura's bedroom door, his dull ears picking up on the sound of her uneven footsteps. A moment later, she stepped outside, dark rings around her eyes. "Sorry. Did we wake you?"

Sakura blinked sleepily, then shook her head. "No." Her eyes roved the room until she found the clock hanging up on the wall. "Why are you all still up?"

There was a pause. Fai broke the silence. "We were just talking about what we should do next. To set everything right again." His blue eye flickered to Syaoran. All the malice of a few minutes ago had faded from his gaze, making him look exhausted.

Sakura cocked her head to the side, something flickering across her face. Not as if she remembered the last moments in that dream-forged world, but as if a ghost of her feelings lingered, coloring her emotions now. "I see," she said.

"Would you like something to drink?" Syaoran offered, rising from his chair. "We have orange juice. Or milk, if you prefer."

Their gazes met for a fraction of a second. A flicker of intensity crossed her face, as if she was trying to remember something her feathers hadn't given back to her yet. Or trying to remember something that would never come back to her. After a moment, the intensity faded from her eyes and she looked down. "Either is fine. Just a small glass."

Syaoran got up and pulled the orange juice from the fridge again, filling one of the smaller glasses with it. He walked over and handed it to her.

Her eyes flitted up to his, then paused there, scrutinizing his face. A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. "Thank you . . . Syaoran-kun."

His heart thumped against his ribs as his lips stretched into a smile.

When the princess had started calling his clone "Syaoran-kun," the Other had been dismayed. But now, the mere acknowledgment that he had a name sent a wave of warmth radiating out from his heart. It was a promise that everything would be okay, that one day, in the absence of his clone, she might come to love him again.

It wasn't perfect—he could have never hoped for things to be perfect—but it was enough.

"I should go to bed," he said, finishing the last gulp of his orange juice. "Goodnight, Sakura-chan. Goodnight, Fai-san. Goodnight, Kurogane-san."

There was a pause, followed by a quiet chorus of "goodnights" from everyone else.

He opened his bedroom door, then closed it, his hand automatically moving to lock it. A moment later, he twisted the lock back, leaving it open for them. They were welcome here. They could visit him whenever they wanted. He didn't have to isolate himself anymore.

Syaoran stripped off his clothes, intending to don a pair of pajamas. When he heard the faint jingle as his jeans hit the floor, he pulled his nightshirt over his head and knelt down beside the pile of fabric. _It can't be, _he thought, rifling through his jean pockets.

But it was. In his right pocket, where he had diligently stored it ever since finding it in Cirrus, sat the bolt from Sakura's leg brace. He held it up, letting the moonlight glint off the smooth surface. His thumb traced the rounded top.

It meant so many different things to him: hope, love, a connection to the princess he had loved and lost and the clone he loved now. But more than anything else, it served as a reminder.

Syaoran set the bolt on his desk, underneath the lamp. It rolled a few inches, then came to a stop, catching the light.

_All dreams must end, _he reflected, a soft smile blooming across his face. _Even nightmares._

* * *

><p>—Finished—<p>

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_Well, that's all folks. I hope you liked the ending, and I hope you liked the story. Thanks to all of you who read and reviewed. Thanks to everyone who told me they'd cried over the course of this story. Thanks to everyone who smiled and didn't say so. Thanks to everyone who kept track of this story even when I couldn't update it as often as I wanted to. And thanks to all the unnamed readers who stayed up late to finish this story._

_Essentially, I ended it at a point where you could assume the price they paid would eventually lead them through Ceres, Nihon, and Clow. Some things would be different from the original series, given that several important characters died throughout the course of this fic, but I thought it would be interesting to connect the ending to the original series as if they had all actually experienced it in-story, and mostly forgotten about it due to the nature of their wish to turn back time to save Syaoran._

_And with that, I bid you all a fond farewell._


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